J| Growing Pains

I still don’t know how to tag someone in a Facebook photo.

I once wrote my darkest secret on paper. I burned it immediately, but I worry that someone will collect its ashes and put it back together. The scenario has played out in my head in a million and one ways and I decided to be flattered that someone would be so obsessed with me. I would also file for a restraining order.

I cringe when I see that I have friended someone two years ago, and they have yet to accept my request.

Sometimes I can hear my teacher’s voice reading out my writing, and he will repeat certain parts; “A million and one ways…” he’ll mutter. “A million and one ways.” He’ll try out, and suddenly my writing doesn’t seem as elegant as I thought it was. He’ll challenge my little jokes, and make me feel bad. It’s not until later I decide that I shouldn’t feel bad for me, I should feel bad for him for not having a sense of humor.

There are a million and one things to do, and I can’t stop stalking this one girl – this one insanely gorgeous girl – and go through her profile pictures from 2010. I don’t want people to see my little acne spots or my yellow teeth, but even more I don’t want them to see that I had air brushed my picture. This insanely gorgeous girl has orange skin, even though she’s Asian, and blurry skin and white teeth and suddenly she doesn’t seem so insane.

I like her picture anyways. I comment anyways.

I’m still not completely sure how to spell the words immediately and definitely and subconscious. You don’t know, that even though I’m Asian, I don’t have a 4.0 or a 2400 or know how to spell the words immediately, definitely, and subconscious.

I like to put on makeup at 11 PM. I like to play with blue and purple eyeshadows and make my eyebrows black like ebony, but then I’ll forget I put it on and get embarrassed in front of my older brother. I’m not completely sure what ebony is, but I think it’s a plant.

I like to curl and my hair at 12 AM and tell myself “Yes! I’m doing this for school!” I’ll sleep with bouncy hair and the next morning I’ll frantically rinse it out in the sink. My bus comes in 5 minutes and my mom is yelling for me to hurry up, but I can’t go to school like this. I’ll curl it one day, just not today.

I wished that he would ask me to prom and he did, but out of the million and one ways he could have prom-posed, he did it over instant messenger. He asked my best friend the next week with cupcakes. I didn’t cry, but I wish I had.