Friday Angst

A rumination on friendship and the nature of sin:

March 17, 1996, Sunday, 9:00 pm

(Age 14)

M has a husky voice that makes her sound as if she has a cold. K thinks she’s hot, and I can see why he might.

Her bathing suit is black. I have nothing against a black bathing suit, but on M, it seems like a sin.

She wears her pants below her hips, so that some of her skin shows below the bathing suit. Of course, this is what K likes. He’s a 14-year-old boy.

M has a new boyfriend every week. Yesterday, she was about to ask me something, but decided against it because I’ve never had a boyfriend. So she asked J instead: “Have you ever had a boyfriend and forgotten his name?”

She’s also such a ditz. I may say something to her, and she’ll stare right through me. This morning, she asked me to accompany her to the lost-and-found. Once inside, M related her list of lost items to the clerk: her notebook, a green hat with a snowflake on the front, her glasses, and one  purple mitten.

While she rattled off the list of her missing stuff, I wondered how one person could lose so much, and why I was even sitting in the lost-and-found with her in the first place.

I can see why K likes her. But I don’t know why I like her.

I can’t explain it, but she is just the kind of person you want to like you.

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