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| Photo by Joshua D White |
Recently, I've decided to sever my friends who are actually not my friends from my life. It's like bonsai-trimming of the soul.
This morning, my friend chauffeured me to visit my ailing ex-boyfriend at his house before he ships himself back to college. I don't really know why we made the trip (because all we did was talk about track for fifteen minutes), but on the way home we went into a deep analysis on why it's semi-impossible not to dick people over on a relatively normal basis.
"Like, even if you don't fuck anyone over, for, like, a whole week; you're still going to get fucked over. You'll probably get fucked over harder because you're being so nice."
"True. I hate it. I hate everyone. We're all double-faced facades who suck. At least pretty people get have something going for them. All us normal people are normal and cruel. It's glamorous to be pretty and cruel."
I think most of my suspicions and distrust is based on ostensible facts my anti-friends or so-called-friends gesture towards. I'm on the epic quest to squelch the paranoia and dread I get from said rumors (ex: Yeah, I don't think she really likes you; she was at that party and did this thing; etc, etc), so I must take my sheers and clip the unruly limbs.
It's a difficult yet satisfying process to watch people whom you're fully exiling from your life blindly fall into the rabbit hole that is your rejection. But I'm almost 18 and can't handle myself, let alone kids who are belligerently inducing my anxieties + don't make me laugh.
Moral: life would be easier if you were pretty because you can do just about whatever you like.
