Status: may take a while to get started. in progress.
A Step Behind
Prologue
A step behind. Always a step behind. Why was it me who had to walk behind the others? Why was it me who was the last to know? Why was it me without the boyfriend? I certainly wasn’t unpretty, per se, but I knew I wasn’t gorgeous. Maybe it was my blue hair. Maybe It was because I was a slight pushover. Mostly I think it was because I was straight forward and my friends didn’t like that.
My friends had a bit of a double edged sword going on. They could say whatever they wanted to or about me, but the moment I opened my mouth – whether it was in retort, defense, or anything else – they played the part of the victim.
It wasn’t that I didn’t like my friends. I did. For the most part, anyway. The times I didn’t were when they acted like the stuck up, spoiled little bitches they were; Albeit, that was most of the time. My mother told me I was being a pushover, settling on a group of people I had nothing in common with.
Maybe I was settling. I was a military kid, it was difficult to switch schools in the middle of the school year. Which made it hard to make new friends. Which meant I was willing to take the first group of people who showed me any kindness.
And then they screwed me over. After my friend’s sixteenth birthday party it was like they got all uppity. And thus began the first year of misery. I had to find new friends. And I hadn’t even moved schools.
My friends had a bit of a double edged sword going on. They could say whatever they wanted to or about me, but the moment I opened my mouth – whether it was in retort, defense, or anything else – they played the part of the victim.
It wasn’t that I didn’t like my friends. I did. For the most part, anyway. The times I didn’t were when they acted like the stuck up, spoiled little bitches they were; Albeit, that was most of the time. My mother told me I was being a pushover, settling on a group of people I had nothing in common with.
Maybe I was settling. I was a military kid, it was difficult to switch schools in the middle of the school year. Which made it hard to make new friends. Which meant I was willing to take the first group of people who showed me any kindness.
And then they screwed me over. After my friend’s sixteenth birthday party it was like they got all uppity. And thus began the first year of misery. I had to find new friends. And I hadn’t even moved schools.
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This is a true story, but names have been changed, events rearranged, and some fictional things have been added in.