High school is a microcosm of weird people, cliques, sports, and activities. A place where most find their niche. However it’s a place where I have yet to find my niche.

Ever since I was little I’ve felt that I’ve been different from my peers. I’ve always been more outspoken, more blunt, and more honest about my feelings (I have an opinion about everything). As I got older, being open about my feelings became viewed more negatively by my peers, especially as they started conforming to the “pretty but silent” norms of society. That was also around the time I ended my friendship with my best friend in eighth grade.

Our friendship was going well during junior high until she told me she had been at a sleepover I wasn’t invited to. Understanding she had other friends I wasn’t hurt that she went somewhere without me, but I was hurt at the fact that all the girls were gossipping about me in her presence. As I awaited her to tell me how she defended me in my absence, she made a complete one-eighty, saying the complete opposite of what I was hoping. Instead of her saying how she defended me, I vividly remember her saying: “I really wanted to saying something to them.” She said this to me on a bench in the middle of the mall, waiting with me to see Pitch Perfect. As we watched the movie in silence, it became apparent that our friendship had ended.

Soon after I made a vow that if I became friends with someone who didn’t stand up for me, whether I was present or not, (something that I would always do for a friend), I couldn’t be friends with them. I’m not sure if that was the right vow to make because it’s four years later and I haven’t had a best friend since. Almost like that experience in eighth grade wrote on the slate of who I am and was a somewhat traumatic experience.

Honestly, it’s quite lonely not having a best friend. I don’t have someone to gossip with, go to football games with, or make 9:45 p.m. Chick-fil-a runs (they close at 10:00 p.m.). I miss having someone know about me and my flaws and still choose to spend time with me. I miss being a steady rock for someone else to talk to, but I miss having someone to talk to my crush about the most.

I’ve been crushing on the same guy since freshman year. He’s about 6’6” and is a basketball player. I’ve always had at least one class with him, so I at least crush on someone I’m familiar with. We talk, but nothing more than “tonight’s game” or a mutual teacher. For over three years I’ve been holding in my feelings about him. I’m someone who never tells anyone besides my mom and my therapist who I like (yes, I said “therapist”). I’m too nervous someone will tell him behind my back and then I won’t be able to even talk to him because it would be too awkward. Also because he’s always had a girlfriend (who all look the same by the way). Selfishly I want to ask him why they’re so special, why he can’t like someone more like me, but I’m not about to burn a bridge I’d like to keep open, so I keep that to myself.

The worst part about it all is that I don’t want to regret in 25 years never telling him how I feel. It’s not easy to go up to someone you’re decent friends with and casually say in math class: “Hey, I’ve had a crush on you since freshman year. Oh, and what answer did you have for number seven?” I’m assertive in most aspects of my life, but this is one topic I can’t make myself be bold.

Looking at everything from a third person perspective, I hate that I’ve had tunnel vision to other boys because of the crush. Who knows, I could’ve had a someone ask me to homecoming… or prom… or even on a date… A guy who could genuinely appreciate me and my quirks and spend time with me. I’m waiting for the person who wakes up and thinks the sun shines out of my ass. But deep down I wonder how much my relationship (or lack thereof) with dad affects my relationships (or lack thereof) with boys.

Ever since I was little my dad chose work instead of me. I don’t really have any memories of him until I was close to six or so, despite always living under the same roof. I often wonder if he ever wanted to have my sister and me. When I was seven my dad, a successful car dealer and part owner of a grocery store, filed for personal and business bankruptcy. We lost everything. Our house was foreclosed on and we were forced to move. That sent my dad into a deep depression that I don’t know if he’s ever made it out of. He hasn’t done too well with it all, especially when my parents divorced my freshman year.

My parents had been unhappy for so long that it wasn’t a surprise, but it still sucked. More than anything it showed how dysfunctional our family was and still is. At seventeen years old I have yet to see my dad happy. I don’t know him; he doesn’t know me. He can’t even spell my middle name right. The past seventeen years of his emotional absence have all contributed to me not having a relationship with him. It bothers me that he expects to pull a relationship with me out of thin air but won’t own up to any of his wrongdoings of the past, a validation I need to move forward. I’m so angry with him, and carry more resentment than I’m proud of.

I worry that because I only see my dad for our weekly family therapy sessions that I’ll have unhealthy relationships with future men, both friends and lovers. If I can’t talk to my father or be open with him now, how can I expect myself to do that with others? The only way I was able to get rid of the pain was to build up emotional walls, hence why others perceive me as intimidating, angry, and have resting b**** face. I don’t let others in because I subconsciously fear that 1.) they won’t care about me and my feelings and 2.) that I’ll start to lose the strength I’ve built up to vulnerability. That’s why I haven’t had many friends.

However, I am trying to change how social I am with my peers. I’m trying to actually show my emotion rather than bottle it up, but it’s still a work in progress. I haven’t made too many social outings, but I’m at least planting seeds with my peers to meet up at a football game or attend a birthday party. It also helps that I’m finally aware that my high school experience is nowhere near what it’s “supposed” to be like the movies, and that it’s not the “best time of my life.”

Last time I checked I can’t get away with changing someone to be more like me, yet still be pretty and popular like Cher in Clueless. I can’t break into song to solve my boy problems like Troy and Gabriella in High School Musical, and I know for sure that prom wasn’t the most magical night of my life. In fact, prom sucked. To give more context, let me back up two months before prom.

I was still on the fence about going to prom, but I went with my mother (one of the few working single mothers) to the after prom meeting to know what I would be getting myself into. The meeting was at Panera Bread to plan for after prom, an event most people show up for to enjoy the free food and then leave to attend a party (usually to consume alcohol) shortly after. All the moms were talking about the prom-posals and their daughters’ preliminary dress fittings like it was their damn wedding. On the other hand, I was just trying to get through the upcoming ACT, AP exams, and persevere through the track season.

After sitting and observing the moms, who acted like they were still in high school, the conversation shifted to me. All dozen or so eyes turned to me in sweats and still-damp, lionlike hair as they asked if I’d picked out my dress yet, still two months before prom. I turned to the moms and simply said: “I was just gonna pull it out of my butt.” I should’ve said that I was planning to focus on schoolwork or a more valid reason in their eyes, but I didn’t. In an implicit and passive-aggressive way I wanted them to know that not everyone gives a s*** about prom. Some of the parents who make a big deal about prom seem to have the kids who peak in high school and live vicariously through their high school-peaking children. It’s like a freakin’ beauty pageant. A hobby that’s just not me.

Anyways, I did end up going to prom with my girlfriend from another school. The highlight of prom was that I stopped the room at the restaurant we ate dinner at before the dance. We walked into the restaurant where my family eats at weekly. Knowing most of the popular graduating seniors were eating there too, I requested that we eat in their dining room. I got looks of approval from the host staff at my confidence as they escorted us into the main dining room. Only stepping one foot into the room, everyone from my school and all the other patrons turned their attention to me. I was standing about six feet tall, my normally straightened hair worn curly, and my gold-sequined dress I had purchased four days before prom. One of my acquaintances in the back of the room yelled, “Rachel, you look bomb!” loud enough to give me the satisfaction I needed, which was worth the price of the dance.

We ate and went to the dance where the DJ sucked and I danced awkwardly. I experienced prom, but in no way was it magical, and in no way am I dying to go senior year. If this is supposed to be the “best time of my life” I could murder someone tomorrow and spend the rest of my days in the Mitchellville Correctional Institution for Women because it wouldn’t matter if things went downhill from here.

Aside from me going to prison for murder, the next logical step would be to go to college to actually do something and start to live my life, with the hopes and assumptions that it’ll get better. If I can deal with not having friends for almost four years, I can deal with college. My still-developing teenage brain is telling me that I can do anything, because right now, like go against the grain of society. Because I can.