Life is amping up its curveballs, and I know it's only going to get worse the older I get. I have one more year of high school left before I am out in the real world.
And what better to help me through it than the sudden disappearance of all my friends?
The seniors are gone. They composed most of the group that sat and joked together at lunch every day. I'm going to miss Kelsey and Brylee, as well as Panda, Brody, Aaron and Jackson. They were awesome people who are all going out to face the world and what it has in store for them. I've already gotten to see Kelsey's new apartment. It's so homey and nice! I want one for myself...without having to pay the money, of course.
Payden is gone, hopefully forever. He made the mistake of ripping out my heart and feeding it to the dogs, so I'm still battling emotions and refusing myself the humility of breaking down and sobbing.
That crack in my emotions led to the final straw between Kaeli and I. Unfortunately. It mostly stems from this distrust she's found in me; how her own insecurities about her boyfriend weaseled their way into my relationship with her. She doesn't want me to hang out alone with Brody, ever.
Oh yes, if you've been with me since the beginning, then I'm sure you recall the extravagance and gushly love posts about my relationship with Brody in 9th grade, yes? Apparently, this past with him is threatening Kaeli more than it should.
It only hurts so much more because she's taken away the only level-headed friend of mine that's straight, male, and disinterested in a relationship with me.
So I took away my friendship from her. Because guess what? I have a lot of homosexual friends, and I feel overwhelmed by them sometimes. I need an awesome, straight guy to chill with.
But nope. Kaeli says no. Kaeli has trust issues. Kaeli thinks Brody will cheat on her, and I think he will, only because she's crazy and can't trust him.
So Kaeli is gone.
In reality, when I think back on the group of friends from Junior year, I'm pretty certain that there will be a total count of two friends by my side.
Bray Bray and Junior.
This does not include a higher list of friends that I know and cherish that I will find myself hanging around with during school, such as Julia, Emily, Kahtie, and others.
I feel lonelier than before, but in a sense, it's become all I ever wanted. I feel like being alone means more determination on what I have set in stone for myself. I feel as though there will be less distractions, dramas, and concerns that will jar my education course. My grades went from straight A's to A's and B+'s, to A's and B's and one C. To me, that's a plummeted grade, and I cannot have that any longer.
I have decided that I will go to college for my pre-med requisits and Art courses, because guess what, everyone?
That's right. I'm going to be a tattoo artist. No, this does not diminish the whole surgeon fantasy. In fact, it enhances it and makes it a little bit more possible.
The discipline in tattooing, the standing or sitting for hours at a time with careful movements and detailed work means I will excel as a surgeon when I have to do twelve hour surgeries in a cold ER. It gives me quality and traits, as well as the money to continue on through medical school without complete and black debt.
It gives me hope, because Kat Von D has such a style that I want, and she has a dream and a career that shines like how I want mine to shine. I have artistic skill. I know I can do it. I can be who I am while I do it, and I can move on to my higher dreams with it. It's that step that I had seen as a blur in my careful plan for a long time, but now has filled the gaping hole.
So senior year will be full of science and art, (no joke, I literally signed up for mostly just those classes.) the two subjects that I will pursue for a more well rounded person.
You know how I'm a writer too? Well, guess what? Kat Von D has written books while tattooing. Duh. Everything's just set into motion now. I will be famous and perfect. Yes. Yes I will.
I did that in Sharpie marker, and it will only get more detailed and complicated.
P.S. (That's not me. That's Erica, my troubled friend.)