It's Not You, It's Me.

Ah, the classic line. It's not you, it's me. 

In my case (an age old friendship), it's true. Granted, the person is not entirely clear of fault, but the anger I am emitting is mostly frustration towards the broken record-esque aura of the situation and me not understanding what I can do differently, or simply put, what is wrong with me.

I'm not exactly a boy slayer and never have been able to initiate anything with boys. However, my closest friends seem to have no issue at all with the boys I'm interested in.

Sidenote: this summer has been incredible and enlightening and magical and spontaneous and perfect.

In one night, a night where I was hopeful and selfish, essentially all the confidence I had built this summer crashed to the ground. It twenty minutes I felt rejection, betrayal, and panic completely drown me. It was like a Taylor Swift song; and not the fairytale ones.

I'm taking it out on my best friend because she wasn't there for me in a moment of weakness. It's no secret I hold on to things, even the most terrible. She crumbled to something I'm sure I would have as well; the notion of being wanted.

I'm angry, not exactly because of the boy. I am angry because I'm jealous. I'm angry because it was what I wanted more than anything in the world. Everything she has had this summer, her ease with people, her flawless way of speaking without shrieking (My falsetto is annoying), was what I have wanted and yearned for since I was 11 and read my first Sarah Dessen book.

 I want to be wanted and it not have to be a secret.
I want to not keep losing to the people around me.
I want to be a priority.

I don't want to be the only one sacrificing for loyalty.

It's not you, HDog, it's me. It's this disgusting self-concious thing and this stupid Fireflies curse and this stupid small town, and the fact with a look I can be knocked down a hundred notches. I am mad, yeah, but only at the idea that you are growing up without me and that I am just "the girl with the hot friend".