I knew what he wanted to say. We’re not dating. We’re not a thing. We’re not in the kind of relationship that would make events like this something that was expected of him.
Sometimes, you imagine what it would be like to be decidedly in the “pretty” category. You imagine that it’s a lot better than it probably is, that it comes with the kind of benefits that Premium membership does in private clubs.
You should leave him tonight because you keep talking about your resolutions, about all the things you want to do next year to make yourself a better person, but when you picture that better person, she is always alone.
The siblings/cousins who have a long-term SO to bring around for the holidays are basically the celebrities of the family.
Don’t lie next to them and drift out of consciousness while they breathe in your hair and think of a way to tell you how beautiful you look without bothering you.
I see my friends getting engaged on Facebook almost every weekend now, and I always do the right thing. I say congratulations, I ‘like’ their pictures of the ring and their professional portraits.
Now we have jobs, and bills, and real responsibilities that make all of that feel like some kind of fever dream.
Basically every aspect of your life, from high school onwards, is well-documented on the internet. And they are going to see that, and believe that they’re going to judge the hell out of it.
Family members who make you feel terribly about yourself, who contribute nothing to your life, and whose only connection to you is genetics at this point.
Because each person who has proven to be a source of heartache only has this power over me because they were once so beautifully important to my life.