Confession Number One

Having recently decided to use  my energy only to do good in the world I've been taking a few trips down memory lane.  I've been thinking about all the insane/not good "stuff" I've done.  So much so that I've decided to confess some of the "stuff" on the SHITTY FAB pages.  

I can't believe the insanity with which I used to operate.

If any of my confessions pertain to you- please take the post as an indirect apology.  I 'll give you one in person the next time I see you... that's if you know you should get one.  

I am ashamed of these true stories.  There is no excuse for horrible behavior but real human action taken in extreme moments of rage, love, pain, happiness and whatever other feelings you can think of can be forgiven right?  I mean the beauty of becoming an adult is that somewhere along the path you figure out how to manage your feelings, organize them and learn from them without committing crimes or dangerous acts that you can never undo.

That said, the confession I'm about to share is pretty awful so please brace yourself and please, please, please - don't judge me.

THE CONFESSION

My friend and I had been having issues with another set of friends.  We pretended to like them and they pretended to like us but we all knew the real deal.  One day my friend and I were in close proximity to one of the other girl's personal belongings and we spotted a journal.

We went back and forth about whether or not we should read it.  

We decided to read it.

We laughed and laughed about some of her most personal feelings and thoughts.  I remember snorting and having to catch my breath because we were laughing so hard. Around the fifth or sixth page all laughter stopped.  On this neatly written page that had hearts doodled in the margin she was going on and on about how my friend was a bitch and on and on about how fat and ugly I was. 

I couldn't believe it.  She was journaling about me.  Calling me fat and ugly.  At the time I had serious issues about every inch of my body and the way I looked.  She hit me where it hurt most and all I saw was rage.

Without thought, like a zombie I walked right to her room, jumped on her bed, pulled my pants down and urinated.  I jumped off of the bed spit in the urine, went and got a spoon, stirred it, blotted the area so that it would dry undetected and I could go to sleep that night knowing she was laying in my fat ugly piss.

I knew it was wrong, but I wasn't thinking with clarity.  I was thinking with hurt and anger and rage and  the tears that I couldn't allow to fall.  

I shouldn't have been reading her journal in the first place and I shouldn't have urinated in her bed and I shouldn't have spit in the urine and I shouldn't have let her sleep in that bed...  We didn't even have a concrete reason for not liking each other.  It was just a thing to do I suppose.  

It should have never gotten to that point.  We should have been friends or cordially decided that we were not meant to connect and kept it pushing but  that's not how it happened.  Instead she journaled about me and I invaded her privacy and urinated on her bed...  I don't quite remember but I bet at one point we were going to be friends and one of us probably misinterpreted something the other did or said and so we started down the road toward journaling and piss...

Things look so different from the adult side.