The promblem.
Houston, we have a promblem.
At TSMS, everyone's just buzzing about prom--girls are asking guys, lads are asking ladies, and social sore thumbs such as I either take a ticket on the Stag Wagon Express or they up the ante and fly first class into Invitational Advantage.
Crazy analogies, I'm sorry, but you know how I roll.
And actually, everything sounds A-Okay. The theme is "dream," and so the committee plans to decorate the ceiling with balloons, give out pillows as souvenirs, all decked out in a radical, silver-and-dark-blue colour scheme. My cookie jar has enough dough to grant me and my date a successful evening (or so I hope) and I've got plans for a dress, Sab and I arranged a carpool agenda, all into place, and it feels so good.
But you see, we've got issues.
First and foremost, my ingrown toenail's back. Again. It's come back, could you believe it?
They'll perform surgery on my foot again--maybe remove the entire nail or cut off my big toe or something. This is the third time this sonofaspike and pus has crammed its way into my foot, and for Doc's sake, I think it's even worse than my first two ingrown toenails combined.
I was hobbling over school after I requested for a band-aid from the clinic. The school nurse was very kind and gave me one. She also suggested that I dip my toe in saline solution and request that I wear open-toed shoes for the rest of the school year (and beyond, perhaps). She liked my socks too.
But what's the worst about this ingrown toenail is the fact that it was completely fine until Lorra stomped her foot on my toe on accident.
It was an accident? Yes.
Was she sorry about it? No.
When I told her this and the fact that I might have surgery again, she laughed at the thought that she'd have to pay for my surgery and antibiotics. For Doc's sake, she's got some nerve--this would've never happened if she had aggravated it and caused it to swell and now I can't even walk properly and all she does is swoon and drool all over some boy who she hardly talks to.
I don't even think she cares. It's pathetic, really. Pathetic, stupid... I don't even know why I'm friends with her.
Which falls into place with issue number two--Lorra.
I sent this message to her just moments ago:
When I got onto the bus after school, I saw Jom looking very depressed and he whined to me, "Ally, I screwed up."
I said, "You did. Big time."
He said, "I feel so guilty... I'm so depressed right now, I didn't mean for this to happen."
I asked, "Did he really say yes anyway?"
And Jom said, "That's what I thought he said--'Sure, why not?' Alec and I felt so guilty... I wanted to kill myself. Alec, too."
He said he and Alec felt really depressed and really sorry for what happened. Jom wanted to apologize, and he said he'd even want to be your prom date to make you feel better, but he thought his parents wouldn't allow it. He also said Alec didn't reject you but he just couldn't make it because he would have band practice.
I don't want to see you crying at school anymore, Lorra. And I'd really like to be honest with you about this.
This may sound mean, but it's the only way I can help you. When I told you about my foot and how I'm going to get my third surgery on it because really now it can't heal at all, and I'm limping all over the place and I can't rest properly because it hurts so bad, all you did was make some joke about paying for my surgery and then laughed.
You really think that was funny? You really think I could handle it?
It's going to be my THIRD surgery, Lorra. Meaning I'll have to cut some off my prom fee. Meaning I'll have to pay for my antibiotics. Meaning I'll have to walk around with open-toed shoes for the next six months--again.
I'm not asking you to pay, but I'm asking you to consider my feelings. It's really as if you don't care at all. You can be very selfish, and you may not even realize it.
Even when I tell you stories or tell you something about myself and you blurt out, "I don't care," for no random reason, whether it's a joke or not, you really don't seem to care at all. You've got some nerve to say things like that to me, to talk like that to me, to even talk about Shine in a mean way--and honestly, I even think Shine's a better friend than you. At least she was kind enough to listen and respect me.
And when I want to have a nice conversation with you, it always goes back to Alec. Alec, Alec, Alec, that's all I ever hear from you. And it's so, SO annoying, sometimes I can't even take it anymore. There's more to life than just boys and love, and if that's all you talk about then nothing else seems that important anymore, does it?
I hate it whenever you cry to me, you whine to me, you boss me around, you drag me everywhere you go--that's why I want to be alone whenever I eat lunch. And whenever you ask me to do you a favor or you interrupt me in the middle of something, sometimes I feel like I want to explode.
And you could tell all this to Shine or backstab me and tell me off to Klyde so he could bully me and bother me too, but I'm standing up for myself for once. I'm not stupid, I'm not going to let you step all over me, and I'm not going to keep all this inside and lose control.
Lorra, I don't hate you. I want to be good friends with you. But you've got to listen to me--good friendships are not always about talking about boys and love. They're also about looking out for each other, considering one another's feelings, and making sure they also do what's right.
I don't like the way you treat me. But I'll pray for you and I'll help you. Then that way, we could be even closer friends and life would turn out better for both you and I.
Much love,
Ally
I said, "You did. Big time."
He said, "I feel so guilty... I'm so depressed right now, I didn't mean for this to happen."
I asked, "Did he really say yes anyway?"
And Jom said, "That's what I thought he said--'Sure, why not?' Alec and I felt so guilty... I wanted to kill myself. Alec, too."
He said he and Alec felt really depressed and really sorry for what happened. Jom wanted to apologize, and he said he'd even want to be your prom date to make you feel better, but he thought his parents wouldn't allow it. He also said Alec didn't reject you but he just couldn't make it because he would have band practice.
I don't want to see you crying at school anymore, Lorra. And I'd really like to be honest with you about this.
This may sound mean, but it's the only way I can help you. When I told you about my foot and how I'm going to get my third surgery on it because really now it can't heal at all, and I'm limping all over the place and I can't rest properly because it hurts so bad, all you did was make some joke about paying for my surgery and then laughed.
You really think that was funny? You really think I could handle it?
It's going to be my THIRD surgery, Lorra. Meaning I'll have to cut some off my prom fee. Meaning I'll have to pay for my antibiotics. Meaning I'll have to walk around with open-toed shoes for the next six months--again.
I'm not asking you to pay, but I'm asking you to consider my feelings. It's really as if you don't care at all. You can be very selfish, and you may not even realize it.
Even when I tell you stories or tell you something about myself and you blurt out, "I don't care," for no random reason, whether it's a joke or not, you really don't seem to care at all. You've got some nerve to say things like that to me, to talk like that to me, to even talk about Shine in a mean way--and honestly, I even think Shine's a better friend than you. At least she was kind enough to listen and respect me.
And when I want to have a nice conversation with you, it always goes back to Alec. Alec, Alec, Alec, that's all I ever hear from you. And it's so, SO annoying, sometimes I can't even take it anymore. There's more to life than just boys and love, and if that's all you talk about then nothing else seems that important anymore, does it?
I hate it whenever you cry to me, you whine to me, you boss me around, you drag me everywhere you go--that's why I want to be alone whenever I eat lunch. And whenever you ask me to do you a favor or you interrupt me in the middle of something, sometimes I feel like I want to explode.
And you could tell all this to Shine or backstab me and tell me off to Klyde so he could bully me and bother me too, but I'm standing up for myself for once. I'm not stupid, I'm not going to let you step all over me, and I'm not going to keep all this inside and lose control.
Lorra, I don't hate you. I want to be good friends with you. But you've got to listen to me--good friendships are not always about talking about boys and love. They're also about looking out for each other, considering one another's feelings, and making sure they also do what's right.
I don't like the way you treat me. But I'll pray for you and I'll help you. Then that way, we could be even closer friends and life would turn out better for both you and I.
Much love,
Ally
One thing good about this issue is that wheels are actually in motion--I've stood up for myself for once in my life. I'm definitely sure to do it again, but I mean this is huge.
I'll be frank. Lorra's not the easiest bush to beat around. Even just one tiny letter of hate, she'll hurl chairs and tables out the window and ram Alaxan pills through her throat (I'm serious, she threatened to do so once).
But she can't go on like that forever. No one deserves to have that anger badge on their conscience for the rest of their lives.
The Bible says,
"In your anger do not sin": Do not let the sun go down while you are still angry.
- Ephesians 4:26
My mom told me this when I got upset at my younger brother once. And if Lorra will continue on like this--angry, bitter, emotional--for the rest of her life, then she'll live a sin for the rest of her life. I don't want that to happen to her, and I wouldn't want to wish that unto anyone.
Tonight, I'll pray for her that she'll listen to me and she'll pray and change just as well. I'll pray that God will guide her as she changes, and maybe eventually we'll build a strong and lasting friendship. Who knows, maybe Alec will even reconsider his weekend with the guys and go to prom with her.
God, please make me successful.