There I was, standing on the subway platform, alone, at 1:20am. 4 minutes to go. I was bitter, sad, and annoyed for reasons I couldn’t explain. I thought about the bitterness of the blog post I was going to write when I get home, “this is it, this will always be it, this is my life, fuck. I’m the girl everybody likes, but nobody wants.” I was going to title the post ‘Drama Queen,’ because that’s exactly what i was being.
I had just left the bar alone, insisting that none of my friends followed me; I wanted them to, but would have been annoyed if they had. I wanted to be alone, but I wanted to talk. I was emotional and I didn’t know why, but in a moment of reasoning I wanted out of that bar so fast, my legs couldn’t carry me.
The tears were coming.
The crush was there. He didn’t talk to me once all night. He actually moved seats to sit away from me. I was neutral. That didn’t even annoy me. It wasn’t about him. It was about me. I’m still the same, stupid fucking girl I was last year, and the year before that, and the year before that. Couples, the entire fucking table was couples. Pairs. I stood alone. I always stand alone.
I am alone.
I felt like shit. I looked like shit. I sat on the subway and tried to get my mind off of things. I took my camera out and tried to clean the stickiness out from around the zoom. I accidentallytook a photo. I made an awkward, embarrassed face. I heard a boy laugh. I looked up.
My age, good looking. He smiled. I smiled back and apologized for taking the unintentional photo. He asked my name, I asked his. We shook hands. We spoke.
He asked for my number. I paused. I pondered. I gave it to him.
1:31am Hey, it’s J the guy you met on the subway. It was really nice to meet you. Did you get home o.k?
1:39am I did, thanks. I was impressed with your smoothness. Asking girls for their # on subways is the norm?
1:42am Thanks, actually no this is the first time I’ve ever asked a girl for her number on the subway, believe it or not. There was something about you that I couldn’t resist, so I had to ask because I wanted to see you again for more than a couple of minutes.
I want to type out, “and just like that my night changed,” but it didn’t. I still feel alone, like no body likes me, no body ever will.
The fat girl everybody looks through. That’s me, except now with a morsel of hope.
See, Drama Queen.