March 18, 2017
If it’s her, I wish I could tell. I wish I were her friend so I could tell her how happy I am that’s she’s made it so far in life, how happy I am she’s a senior in high school and how proud I am that she got her first job. I could tell her I’m proud of her and that it only feels like just yesterday I knew her as the introverted, blond girl on a bus full of every other color in the rainbow.
But alas, I don’t know her. I remember her best friend was Carmen, the one she never told that she was moving to another city, another state. When I saw Carmen when I visited my high school a couple weeks ago, Carmen looked lonely, still as introverted as when they met that rainy day at the beginning of their middle school journey together. Poor Carmenina.
Also, I remember writing a detailed story (more so a fictionalized autobiography, actually) last spring and right now, it’s blowing my mind how much of it has come true in my life this year–freakishly to the tee–but just with different people, different times and places. I tell people I’m clairvoyant but no one believes me…