meximick's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Found on Valentine's Day The girl was still sick, so I cooked dinner for her and her sister, and headed home. Sorting through my worthless Incredible Hulks and Punisher comics last night, I came across something truly fascinating. In the bottom of an old box of comics that I haven't gone through since I moved to Chicago, I found a note, folded up paperninjastar style. On the outside was written, "My dearest [meximick]". At first, I had no clue what it could be, so I frantically opened it. Here's what it said: Here's the deal. I don't think I will go with you to the winter ball. There are a few reasons. 1. Last year when I went to the prom with a jerk from Whitesboro, I had a terrible time. That makes me not want to go anywhere again. It ruins the expectations of my prom + winter ball. It's not you, it's me. 2. And next, put myself in Jeremy's place. I would get pissed and throw a fit if he was asked to a dance by someone else and was even considering going. [meximick], it's not you. You are still one of my bestest friends and please don't be mad or upset. You are a wonderful friend and I don't want this to wreck our friendship. Have a tic. [heart] Jana ***********************************************************************************************
My Winter Ball in my junior year in high school was a wack, boring time. I'm not even sure of her name, but the girl I ended up taking was one of Jana's cute friends. The girl knew more people at the dance than I knew, hence she made her own fun, and I remember a lot of time spent sitting down. My own fault really, I suppose. And I don't remember this note causing a major rift in our friendship. Though, I don't remember much of my non-core group high school friendships. I wasn't one of those mopey, depressed outcast teenagers in high school that no one ever really understood. I was (am?) a geek. Not an incredibly booksmart geek, but a goofy kid who was in the school band (saxophone), got decent grades (3.5), collected comic books, and when I told the parents that I was "going over to a friend's house to watch a movie", actually did just that. That is until senior year, when getting drunk and/or high on the weekends became a high priority. And what's that shit, "It's not you. It's me." Are you fucking kidding me?!?! She actually wrote it out! That's it. I'm totally getting this bitchass rejection letter framed, yo! Rock on, -M 9:10 a.m. - 2002-02-15 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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