(Bonus: What's my hair color)
Let's just say I am not the best with relationships. Because I am not.
My loving, caring (READ: bitchy, hating) mother created a few fake Twitters to stalk me. 'Watch It Red' was the handle for one of them. I saw a few followers with odd names like this, and I knew who it was. I'm not stupid. She has a thing out for me. To stalk me, try and find out what I'm doing, who I am with, where I am, etc. They say haters gotta hate, well this is her full time job and she has put her time in. It should be time for her to retire by now.
My mother is just one out of many, I mean MANY relationships that have failed in my life. From friendships to boyfriends to family members, some are my fault and others aren't.
Starting in elementary school, I have been the kid you either really like or you really hate. Starting at a young age, I got along with guys. Girls despise me most of the time and I couldn't tell you why. It's weird. I have been told it's because I am confident, I don't need anyone and you can get that vibe from me. Girls don't like that. Is this true? No freakin clue. Anyways, I remember second grade I had my first run in with a girl that hated me. I was friends with one girl, and the other one hated it, so she wrote my friend a hate letter about me saying nasty things about me during a movie in class. It was written on a cheap ass brown paper towel. I, being the young Nancy Drew of my generation, found the paper towel in the trash as everyone got up to go to lunch and had my first cry about bitches. Girls are nasty creatures. We are. Whether you realize it or not, bitches are crazy and hateful. Even at 8 years old they are. And it's terrible.
As I get older, I hang out more and more with only guys. In 5th grade, I was home schooled. I developed during this time (I mean, I got the ass and boobs I have now at 23, actually, I think they may have gotten smaller). Everyone thought I was in college and yet I wasn't even in middle school yet. I hated it. When I went back to public school for 6th grade, I was made fun of for the big boobs and looking like a woman. I mean, I was 11 years old. These guys and gals had no idea what these things were and, naturally, the first reaction for anyone is to hate on things you don't know about. My guy friend told me in the hallway leaving health class that the rumor was 'You stuff your damn bra?!' Yeah that's a great way to tell me what you are hearing about me, dude. Anyways, I really started hating myself. I mean, even in gymnastics, my escape, I was the biggest girl. I grew to nearly 5' in 4th grade, and we all thought I was going to be a tall person and keep growing. Wrong. I grew up so fast, then I have stayed where I was and everyone caught up to me and passed me. And if you know anything about gymnastics and tumbling sports, the smaller you are the better. Once you hit your growth spurt and get your boobs, you're done for.
In 7th grade, I became more of the person I am now. I quit giving a f***. I went 'punk' with Avril Lavigne being my spirit animal through it all (Like posters and her lyrics covering my orange walls). I started wearing the cargo pants, the black eyeliner, converse and teaching myself to play piano and then guitar. When I started to be myself, everyone left me alone and I was some happier.
My spirit animal. But Sk8r Boi era. & only then.
Then I became friends with Tarin. Oh, Tarin. She was my first 'BFF'. She was odd, but she was the girl that once she liked you, you two would be conjoined at the hip. Her mom was the counselor at our school and drove the awesome little red convertible. The greatest thing: Tarin looked to me for everything. She awed the fact that I did gymnastics, I wasn't scared of saying things, I did what I wanted. She was the shy type, she needed someone to fuel her to do things. She couldn't do it alone. I was her yin to her yang. So, pretty much daily she got her mom to call mine (it was the days before texting, people) to see if I could hang out until late. We would eat good food, watch movies, drink too much soda, ride in the convertible on cold nights then put the top up with the heat full blasting (it was her favorite if I remember correctly), and I practically lived at her tiny older house. She wanted to be a part of the 'popular' group and I knew this. She knew I got along with everyone and she used that to start talking to them too. I didn't give a f*** if they were popular or anything. She wanted to sit at the popular table.(There was the popular table, the girl's table, and then the guy's table). We shared clothes. She started tumbling classes with me and I started going to a chorus program with her. Sounds perfect right? Nothing is ever perfect, especially with me, haven't you learned this yet?
So Tarin believed everything I told her. She would hang on to every.last.word. It drove me nuts. But I figured I would have some fun with it. I told her about the guy I really liked, from summer camp (who turns out to be gay, no wonder I fell in love) and I were a thing. Which we weren't. Because, well, he played for the other team. But I did it for shits and giggles. Who cared. He lived somewhere else. She would never know. I ended up 'breaking' that off. Whatever. Anyways, she was just one of those really gullible people. And it was fun. Then I was like 'why doesn't she get her own life?' Total Regina move. I know, I know.
She couldn't stay at anyone's house, either. Unless you drugged her. No joke. The only time she spent the night at my house and actually stayed until morning was when she had an allergic reaction to something and we gave her some Benadryl and Ben & Jerry's and she passed out. Otherwise, she would make an excuse to call her parents to come get her. Like, even at birthday parties, slumber parties, everything. It was weird and annoying to me. (A lot of things that are irrational to me and so out of the way of the goal and purpose of things tend to really annoy me. Just call me 'diva'). Another annoying thing I hated was how her parents did everything she wanted. She was an only child. They did everything to revolve around Tarin. What Tarin wanted, they did. She talked to them like dogs and I hated it. She needed to be slapped in the mouth one good time by her mom, but her mom was too sweet to do it. And I know her parents had to see how Tarin was with friends. I know they had to see how clingy she was and it wasn't healthy. But they kept it quiet.
So for Christmas, Tarin and I had a huge recital for our Chorus program we were part of. I ended up getting a duet of Silent Night in English and German with the best girl in the program, making me a major wreck of course. Looking back, obviously someone thought I had some talent. Tarin and I went to practice 1-2 times a week and of course rode together and were inseparable. It's like I couldn't get away from her. She then started suggesting we get matching outfits. I think we had a Twin Day for Spirit Week or something stupid like that is what started it. I remember the shirts now. Crimson collar shirt from Aeropostale and khakis. Ugly as hell. For Christmas, she got me a guitar. A literal, working, with amp, freakin electric guitar. Now I started feeling like shit. She was odd and clingy, but she was with good intentions. So I give it another go before blowing up.
It takes about two or three months before I can't take it anymore. I couldn't breathe without her there. I grew up alone, on a street with no kids my own age and not allowed out of the yard (no joke, thanks Daddy for being protective I guess) so I am used to being by myself. I need alone time. I crave it. Plus, Tarin started doing more and more things like me and I was just over it. I don't like being someone's Regina. I want you to be yourself and me to be me. End of story. So, I wrote the letter. This letter said just that. That she was obsessive, clingy, and needed to grow to be herself more. I wasn't nice in it, and looking back, maybe I should've thrown the first away to get emotions out and then write a second, but I was young.
This letter gets around. It goes from table to table. No one hates me. Everyone even says they were glad someone finally told her the truth. And I was that person. She held on to this letter, even though she hated me with a passion. I told her why didn't she frame the damn thing and put it on her wall, she held on to it so much. Her parents were the counselors, so I expected to possibly get called to the office. I almost have a feeling that possibly they were relieved someone did this? No idea. But I had put in the letter that she needed to respect her parents more, to let them live their own lives and not control them. To love them and not be a bitch.
Tarin got to start sitting at the popular table because one girl was nice enough to invite her, knowing she used to sit with me. I took the freedom to finally go sit with the guys and started bringing a deck of cards to beat all their asses. Lunch was now full of fun rather than 'I wish ..... would talk to me', 'I want to be as good at gymnastics as you', 'Can you ask ..... if they want to hang out? I wish she would notice I exist. She's popular.'. Puke. Even now. Puke. I don't care about that bull. Take it somewhere else.
Tarin moved schools the next year. Surprised? I wasn't.
I have found her on FaBo (you know, the hip term for Facebook). She is a graduate from a really good school, was in the marching band, and engaged. Honestly, I do wish the best for her. I had to be the bad guy, but I really hope the evil letter helped her be a better person. To be herself and quit worrying about being cool and popular. And to respect your parents.
Oh, and to quit being so gullible.
*I obviously changed her name. I'm not an idiot. We all have a Tarin.
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