Oh those High School Scars

I did kind of a weird thing last night on a whim. And I’m kinda sorta a little bit embarrassed about it. But I’m going to unload here because 1) like 5 people read these 2) of the 5 of you who DO read (thanks!) most of you totally identified with my last Facebook-related post.

So, here goes:

I randomly scanned my Facebook friends list and removed probably 75% of the people with whom I graduated high school. And as I clicked away at Unfriend… Unfriend… my inner monologue was this: they weren’t your friend THEN and they never will be, so let go.

If you’re like me, you probably have a whole hmm, what’s the technical term… shitload of random people from high school who have suddenly somehow made it into your social media life. Maybe they friended you… maybe you friended them b/c you were curious about their post-HS life (don’t tell me you haven’t done this, Betty) but regardless of who instigated this fakey fake reconnection, I’d guess that that with the exception of a handful, you probably don’t give a *&@& about most of them. At least this is how it is for me.

Guys, high school was a dark time for me with a few bright spots. I wouldn’t say that I was particularly unpopular, but I certainly wasn’t head cheerleader either. I’d say I fell somewhere in the middle, and often felt marginalized and invisible. And the best of the “popular” crowd probably had no clue who I was, while the worst of them – and I can certainly pick out a few – were downright nasty to me for no real reason. And there is one girl in particular who was the biggest bitch to me since, honestly, 3rd grade. That was the first time I remember this little tart saying something rude – probably calling me fat, or something else equally creative.

The weird and psychologically torturing thing about cliques in school is that on the one hand you feel so sad and excluded and even bullied by these people… but on the other hand, you just want to be part of that clique. Even if it means you’re a total asshole, I guess. Anyway, I digress.

Yesterday, for some reason or another a photo of a bunch of former HS classmates popped into my feed, and this girls face was there. And it was like opening up an almost healed wound. Turns out that that I was “friends” with a whole entourage of people with whom this gal associates. I took a close look at my “relationship” with said “friends” … and honestly, with few exceptions I don’t think I’ve said more than 5 words total to these people in my entire life. None of these people gave me the time of day at age 17, so why was I allowing them to infect my reality 23 years later?

Well, reader, I’m not going to allow them to. Ain’t never gonna be part of that popular clique, not now, not neva. So, screw that crap. And now I’ll live happily ever after never seeing C******’s face ever again.

My advice? Guys, you don’t have to let those old high school scars roll off your back because “we are all kids back then!” or whatever. Its ok to remove that negativity from your life. Go ahead. They weren’t your friend then, and they never will be. Peace out, you cheerleading fucko.

Oh… but just so you know I wasn’t a total loner, my biggest bright spot in school was the music department, as you can see here by this saved-by-the-bell-esque layout. Thank God for music, and the early internet I guess. 11781770_10101703361057744_424159110899536586_n

 

1 thought on “Oh those High School Scars

  1. bookmeetsgirlblog.com

    Oh man. I think I lost my soul searching reply. Bottom line is you are completely right. Girl’s especially can made life tough for others. That’s just what they do. Somehow it helps them. I’ve had the same friends my whole life and never cared what other people opinions of me were. A music teacher did day to me I could miss an occasional meal. I was so stunned. I’ll never forget it. You kind of have to be your own personal bitch to get through life. It’s you armor.

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s