Not Meant for the Party Scene

Last night was one of my best friend's sweet 16 party. I've known Kinnari since I was in 4th grade, and I've been close with her ever since she decorated my tree with flowers in the fifth grade. I don't usually go to parties if they're something big like a sweet 16, but Kinnari knows me too well. She would have known damn well if I said I couldn't go just because I didn't feel like it. Plus, she pretty much cornered me into unintentionally saying yes. She asked me if I had any plans for the Friday that midterms ended, and I said I didn't think so. She kept asking, "Are you suurree?" until I said, "Yes, I have no plans." And right then, I was roped into going to her party. First of all, wearing a dress was extremely awkward. I am not fond of wearing dresses in the first place, but because of that, when I do, everyone freaks out. They are all yelling at me, in an excited kind of way, and flashing cameras and telling me how pretty I am, as if it's that much different when I'm wearing jeans. It's partially flattering, but mostly overwhelming. Also, I don't dance. I'm pretty much incapable of dancing, especially in front of people, but if the music is really great, like at a concert or something, I can't help but dance around. Last night, though, was basically four hours of the worst music I've ever heard. Every song had the same frigging beat and...I don't even know. It was almost to the point where I needed to walk out of the room so I wouldn't have to hear it. Every ten minutes, one of my friends would literally drag me onto the dance floor, where I proceeded to stand there awkwardly until they looked away and I was able to escape. I was tired of smiling for cameras and making stupid conversations and basically lying through my teeth when Kinnari asked me if I was having a good time. Kinnari awkwardly danced with the guy she likes, twice, and I'm happy for her, but it also makes me plain depressed about myself.

When you love someone, you start giving up pieces of yourself to become what you think they would want you to be. You know they will never love you as you are now, so you coordinate your outfits around when you see them. If you bought a new shirt on Monday, but you pass by him in the halls on Wednesday, then you'll wait until Wednesday, even though the sensible part of your brain knows that it doesn't really matter. You pick up their phrases and their hand movements, and when they're upset, you're the one aching. When you love someone enough and you finally realize you might not have a fairy tale ending, you know what it's like to love and hate at the same time. You find it necessary to show them up, to be blunt when they smile and wave, or to look extra good not to impress them, but to make them wish they had gone for you to begin with. You make sure you're walking with someone, or laughing at a friend's funny comment, when they walk by, despite the fact that they're not even looking, and if they were, well, they don't give a damn.