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i won’t admit that i like my friend, because sometimes i really hate him

8 Jan

retroblog thursday

January 8th, 2003.

We were sophomores in high school, and Fighter bought a girl a hat for Christmas. Someone told me that when he gave it to her, she said, “Is that it?” which was pretty rude. We were hanging out after school like we usually do, and Fighter wasn’t talking at all. I wanted to be a friend and let him vent, or whatever, but I knew he wouldn’t talk to me about it. I called that night to ask how he was anyway and he said he wasn’t well. Then Poet called, so we did flash and I sat on the third line growing angry while the two of them talked about what had happened earlier that day without really saying what it was. I shouted something about it, then stopped talking. Then Fighter said, “All my friends are mad at me. I don’t even know who my real friends are anymore, right?”

tbt01082003

Poet said, “Yeah.”
Fighter said we didn’t care.
I asked what we didn’t care about, and Fighter thought that meant I wasn’t listening and I was definitely not a real friend.
“Whatever.”
Fighter said he had to go. Said bye, and Poet responded. Fighter hung up the phone, and I did too, really frustrated and upset, wondering what I ever did to deserve it. I guess he told me earlier that he hates our school and he wants to transfer, and GOOD, and I HOPE HE DOES, and HE’S A SUCKY FRIEND ANYWAY!

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