Sk8r Gurl

*blue bottom locker closes*

I walked down the shiny squared tiled hallway with my highlighted highlighter yellow blonde hair that fell right in the middle of my back. Back then, Toms were in style. My first pair were red. And I literally wore them until there was a hole in the side. Pretty sure I still have them.

Red, blue, white, wait, not just blue, light and dark blue both, were all in our uniform all at once. Embroidered over our left chest was our logo. I wore one of two jackets: fleece or windbreaker. Inside the windbreaker, you’d find a pencil, maybe a mint or a piece of gum, and maybe even my cell phone if I was feeling racy that day. As the ladies, we had three choices of bottoms: pants, shorts, or two different kinds of skirts, but really, we only had one option: skirts. If you wore shorts or pants, you were weird. Why? Not sure. Guess you looked like a boy if you didn’t wear a skirt - what a crime.

There was a khaki skirt, that was my favorite, that zipped in the back and had a pleat in the front. And then there was the plaid one that I also loved, but you had to wear shorts underneath or you’d give the boys (and girls) a free show. There was a khaki version of this skirt, but I wasn’t too fond of it. The plaid one came in handy when it was my beloved time of the month.

I remember, in sixth grade, just four years prior, I had started my period for the first time. I had this giant beach ball looking purse, for an absolutely unknown reason, and inside that beach ball, I had pantyliners. Well, the pantyliners weren’t enough. Long story short, I never wore a khaki skirt again after that, not because I got blood on my skirt, but because of the other gory details that I’ll spare you of.

I used two different eyeliner colors back then. They don’t make the brown version anymore, and I am bitter about it, but, NYX makes a similar one. My beloved Maybelline Lash Stiletto liquid liner in “blackest black” and in my retired brown color along with my Maybelline Lash Stiletto mascara followed by CoverGirl LashBlast mascara in the orange tube - both in the “blackest black,” of course. My eyes were so blue with the brown, but I didn’t feel as badass as I did in the black. I saw a quote somewhere that said, “It’s crazy how a black line can make you more confident.” It really is crazy, Karen. Karen’s get a bad rap, but not here. Right, Karen?

Anyways, back to my coveted high school experience.

While the “regular” uniform was sufficient, my favorite was the one I wore two years prior. I was the emo kid turned cheerleader. “Sk8r Gurl,” if you will. I had found purpose. Even if I wasn’t cool, I was associated with them now. I was apart of the group everyone wanted to be apart of. I didn’t have to worry about being invisible because I was always visible.

I’ve been that way my whole life. I’ve been a performer, I’ve had my art on the wall at shows, in the hallway, I’m writing this here with you today. The greatest show that I put on, though, is my confidence. It’s a work in a progress, y’all.

I had my cream Betsey Johnson crossbody bag on with the black heart on the side; it had a gold chain. That, and the exact same one in black (with a red heart), were my absolute favorite purses. I don’t know what happened to them. My mom probably does, though.

It was 07:00 on that Monday morning. I got to school earlier than anyone else because of that anxiety.

What if they didn’t like me today? What if I was left out today? Again, I couldn’t be invisible if I was the one there first. Or if I was the one sitting against the wall in the hallway looking at everyone as they walk in. Man… I sound like a control freak.

Here she came, like I didn’t know she was already on her way from her text a few minutes ago. Nina was the girl I had always wanted to be friends with and I was her friend. We alternated texting each other first every morning. And we called each other best friends. We spent the night, well, the whole weekend at each others’ houses every weekend. During the summer, we Skyped (our version of FaceTime back then) each other every night we weren’t together. I went to my first haunted house with her and my mom and that night was one of the best nights of my whole life; my two favorite people were there and I felt completely included and safe and accepted.

One time, we walked all the way from the old Mexican restaurant, that is now shut down, to the movie theater, that has now been remodeled. I can still see the old building in my head, though. We were going to see Insidious; if you ask me what my favorite scary movie is, Insidious is probably going to be on my list. Not just because it really is that good, but because of Nina.

At Christmas, she got me this Ariel piggybank (Ariel is my favorite Disney princess). She got me this canvas with Paris on it; she knew how much I loved the french language and the Eiffel Tower. Everything she got me was so thought out and personalized, and now, I am the same way. I don’t know if maybe that is my way of still feeling close to her or what, but I am now that way. It made me feel so loved and reassured in ways I didn’t even think I needed. The consistency that Nina provided laid a foundation of what I need in friendships. I knew I’d get that “Good Morning!” text from her and the “I love you!” text at bedtime. And I knew I’d send one in the morning. She was my counterpart and my companion. That year, I drew on a jewelry box and gave it to her. Her favorite colors were pink and green and that box had on it just that.

I speak of her like she is dead. She’s not. We still live in the same town, actually. We don’t talk unless we see each other out, but I’d still take a bullet for her just like I would’ve back then. And she is still one of my favorite people.

Both my old therapist and my new therapist have talked about the circle and levels of friendship. You have acquaintances, friends, close friends, and then you have best friends. My current therapist knows me so well, y’all. She helped me figure out that it actually takes a long damn time to get into my core; I don’t trust hardly anyone. I do seem like I do, but I don’t. Like Nina, once you break my trust, it’s hard to get back in.

Because of Nina, and that laid foundation, “best friend” means so much to me. Being called that and labeled that in someone else’s life is the greatest gift to me. My longest friend, Brittany, is my best friend, but she is more than that, she is my sister, my twin. She knows me better than anyone because she is me. She has seen some of my darkest times and has loved me anyway; Britt has earned her spot in my best friend category. Brittany is my f*cking soulmate.

When we get into our adult lives, friendships fall to the back burner. We get a big girl and big boy job. We get married. We have kids. All before we’re thirty. That’s the goal, isn’t it?

Let me ask you something…

If your spouse dies, and you don’t have a foundation, what are you gonna do?

If I didn’t have my foundation in God, my friends and my family when Matt died, I don’t know what I would’ve done. Having to be strong would’ve been so much more painful and difficult than it already was.

Hell, as I have gotten older, I have realized that all I really want is my bed and Mardi, which is what I am fixing to do now. I look forward to going home and sleeping with my cat every night. I didn’t use to be that way. My house may not be straight, may be messy, may smell like animal, but it’s mine.

I am not be as skinny as I want to be or once was, but I’m healthy. And I’m me. And that’s enough. <3

Until next time, my lovelies,

A