I think I’m crazy sometimes. I want so badly to be one of those characters in one of those sappy romance novels. In fact, I don’t even care if it’s a tragedy. I don’t care if my love interest dies, or if my best friend betrays me, or if it turns out that my parents weren’t actually my parents. At least there would be excitement, adventure, dandelion puffs - all those beautiful what-have-yous. Most importantly, there would be a conclusion.
(Rule one: Don’t expect a decent wrap up for most things in life. )

The best analogy I have for my life right now is a mediocre fanfiction that’s several hundred thousand words long. The writing is not amazing, nor the storyline the most riveting, but it’s interesting enough that some people care about it. Oh wait - the author hasn’t updated in years. (Rule two: Don’t rely on the promises of fanfiction authors. They only serve to crush your dreams.)

Okay, that’s a little melodramatic of me. Life continues. School continues. I guess school is one of the few things that I’m sure will be happening right now. The others fall somewhere between headaches, watermelon, and cheesy friendshippy pep talks. I mean the real friends, not the social media kind, for the record. What’s a teenage girl without a few best buddies to fall back on?
(Rule two.five: Watermelon is important.)
(Rule three: have at least one close friend – you don’t have to tell them everything, but you really trust them. If you have just one, you’re okay. You’re okay.)

I’ve miraculously managed to completely miss my point. Everything is a chaotic mess right now, schoolwork being the least of it. Wait, just kidding. I’m a huge nerd. Schoolwork is definitely NOT the least of it. In fact, it’s second only to this not-even-love-triangle love triangle I’m somehow in. (Rule four: read less terrible YA romance. Pick up a classic once in a while.)

Aha, you knew that it was coming. No tale that involves a teenage girl can be without romance, no matter how short. Well, here you go. Long story medium, there’s this guy who we shall call Pikachu. Pikachu has been in love with a girl who we shall call Squirtle for a few years. (Rule five: Don’t question Pokemon in any context because it is amazing.)

Squirtle, who Pikachu calls Pikachu, as if this wasn’t confusing enough, does not love him back. Er, actually, she hated him for a while because of the terrible thing known as the middle-school gossip network. (Rule six: teens are terrible.) He was upset about that one for a long time. Guess who he cried to? Me, because I am his best friend. Problem: Squirtle is also one of my best friends. Oho. The plot thickens.

Things got decidedly more complicated after middle school, because everyone was finally growing up and figuring themselves out and doing amazing things. For me, it meant that I realized that I liked Pikachu. At this point, I didn’t even know WHAT was going on anymore. I had been going through a period of 2-week cycles of liking different guys (half-jokingly, really), and suddenly, bam. Back to square one, except with the last person I wanted to like. And for those of you who think this is cute: THIS IS NOT CUTE. Pikachu is hopelessly devoted to Squirtle, and must talk to me every day about her. Our interactions go:

“OMGOMG she touched me!!!”

“That’s great. What was the math homework?”

“DUDE does this mean she likes me, or does she still hate me? Why is she sending me mixed signals?? Aw, she’s so cute when she smiles :). Wait, you have English with her. Does she ever talk about me?!”
(Rule seven: Don’t like someone who likes someone else. It sucks.)

This shouldn’t be anything new. Worse has happened. What’s different now is the fact that I like him. Very first-world of me to be complaining, but I will complain nonetheless. Because of my frequent interactions with Pikachu, some people even assume we’re dating. This is most definitely NOT good because every time this happens, I have to reach deep down inside and crush the obnoxious little voice of happiness I feel. I have talked the ears off of my friends about this. I’m actually surprised that they haven’t straight up told Pikachu to man up, because that is what they’ve been enthusiastically yelling at me to do. Sometimes, I’m tempted.
(Rule eight: listen to your friends.)

This pattern continues for months. It’s almost finals. I’m stress crying over APs and GPAs and ACTs and all sorts of ridiculous combinations of letters. It’s fine. It’s okay. I have my friends, my phone, a giant review book, and lots of time. I do the completely logical thing. I tell Pikachu that I like him.

What? (Rule nine: listen to your heart.)

Wait, what? (Rule ten: Don’t listen to your heart if you are texting at 3 AM.)
(Rule eleven: you will regret it the next day.)

He was cool about it. I was not. In fact, I was pretty far from cool, and he was a little too cool. He…forgot about it. I’m not sure how someone can be stupid enough to forget that someone confessed to you, but he was. I was genuinely amazed and really pissed off, as any righteous teenage girl would be. I had been friendzoned so hard that Pikachu didn’t even consider me as a human being that he COULD like. Out of pettiness, I refused to talk to him. My weak heart caved after three hours of his texts that were like, “Where ru??” “HELP” “DUDE”
“PLZ Im sorry” (Rule twelve: Don’t be weak.)

A few days later, he got up the nerve to confess to Squirtle. Squirtle was not too cool about it either, and she freaked out to ME for hours. What was I supposed to say? I had two options. I could tell her to take the moral route, thank him for his feelings, and actually consider them, because if anyone knew he was genuine, it was me. My other option was to tell her to brutally reject him, crush his soul beyond repair, and leave him no hope, so that he would come crawling back to me. I had so much power in that moment, it was wonderful.
(Rule thirteen: Take the moral route.)
(Rule fourteen: When upset, Phone a Friend.)
(Rule fourteen.five: It’s okay to cry. Not for too long though.)

She didn’t like him anyways, so it didn’t matter. I wasn’t upset. Or jealous. Really. Really.
(Rule fifteen: Attempt to not be jealous. It’s okay if you fail, as long as you don’t Hurt Others.)

In hindsight, it was good that he did that. I was liberated. He knew that I liked him. She knew that he liked her. Nothing really changed. Is that disappointing? That one little moment, and that was it? Really, it was reassuring. He was still one of my best friends. You can call that cute, if you would like. Not the most interesting story, but it’s mine.
(Rule sixteen: Take naps. Eat watermelon. TAKE NAPS.)
(Rule seventeen: Studying and dying don’t have to go hand in hand.)
(Rule eighteen: You will do stupid things as a teen.)
(Rule eighteen.five: It’s okay.)
(Rule eighteen.nine: Your friends will always love you no matter what.)
(Rule nineteen: Don’t get out of practice with really talking to people.)
(Rule twenty: Love brightly. Laugh honestly. Don’t give up on that fanfiction.)