As my final year of high school comes to a close, I am given a yearbook to remember this dreadful year. Maybe not so dreadful but definitely the least social out of all. I have been betrayed by an entire group of friends and ridiculed by numerous fuckpeople.
Every year, I have made it my goal to get the signatures of everyone in my yearbook. This year, my last year to get them, will be the first that I will be choosy. I want the messages from the friends who shaped me, the teachers who guided me, and the staff who provided support in ways we students neglect to acknowledge.
I will ensure my bestest of the best friends will sign it: Ryan, Jackshmuck, Camshmuck, Terah, Andrea, Jennifer, Nikki, Jeannie, Jessica, Shu, Kyle, and my chem teachers. (Excuse the lack of parallelism.)
Many other people who have disappointed me little to none will allowed in my book of high school memories, but it would be unfair to list them, as I may forget some.
I would rather cherish the few messages of love than a million little “you’re cool, feminist. enjoy college”?
And perhaps I may consider a few of those from kind people, but I definitely will not make it my goal to get every acquaintance’s signature.