You attempt to delete every single post on your Facebook wall. You’ve not only shared embarrassing Wetpaint articles, but you also have written some horrible, blackmail-worthy statuses during your pre-fetus years. Resent your parents for not stopping your 5th and 7th grade self from posting unflattering selfies because those are the only pictures that you can’t delete. You’ve put them on private.
After the evidence of your not so appealing childhood has been destroyed, create a new persona. Become said new persona. Write. Give up after two days because you hate not being yourself. Be you, but quieter. Give up because you get way too excited when someone mentions an anime you watch. Make yourself intimidating again. Write. Wear sweatpants. Go on a huge rant on why you don’t want a boyfriend. Ask a guy to make out with you. He says no, don’t believe him. Ignore him for three days. Make intense eye contact with him, count to 5, look away. Go up to him. Say “I hate you.” Expect him to say nothing, while also expecting him to pull you in for a kiss and say “where have you been all my life.” The latter is your hormones. He says nothing. He is nothing. Realize your life isn’t a Korean drama. Get angry. Write. Move on. Go on another rant about how you don’t need a boyfriend.
You have schoolwork up to your neck. Watch an episode of Mad Men. Jon Hamm is the man of your dreams. Write. Realize that he is 44. Write. You’ve sworn off boys for awhile. Write.
You’ve changed since the end of 8th grade. You want to write daily statuses and post pictures of your freshmen year. You activate your Facebook once again. You wish you saved a few weird statuses. All you have left are pictures of your 5th and 7th grade self.
Abbegail Louie, class of 2019