*This might sound very repetitive.
*I envision this being told by a girl, but it could honestly be told by anyone
I was a freshman in high school when I met Maggy. I remember her being a lanky girl with skin so pale she could give Snow White a run for her money. Her body was adorned in dark brown freckles, which brought out the bright emerald green her almond eyes held. At the time, she had teal hair with blonde highlights. In my eyes, she was the epitome of a super cool, introverted girl– the kind of girl people would ignore, but she would go into the world and kick butt.
Throughout high school, as her hair changed, she changed, and I don’t think it was for the better. While she changed and grew and became her own person, I stood by her side; there was something about Maggie that made me want to stay by her side, even though I wasn’t a fan of some of her decisions. Despite what everyone deemed wrong about our friendship, Maggy was my best friend. There were so many things she contributed to our friendship that was so different; people didn’t know Maggy the way I did, so people didn’t understand the dynamic of our friendship.
The thing about Maggy was she made me feel like crap about myself, but I still hung around her because I didn’t want to let go of the memories we made; I was literally holding on to her because all I could think about were the good times despite the toxicity. She knew so much about the world and everything in it; whenever she asked me if I’d done this or seen that, I lied because I felt like a failure if I said I hadn’t done or seen anything she talked about. Then I hated myself for days after because I hate lying and liars, even though I became one when it came to Maggy. That’s when I started losing myself.
The thing about Maggy was she always made me change my clothes because my appearance didn’t meet her standards. I usually wore either boyfriend jeans or mom jeans (I love a loose fit jean), a graphic t-shirt, and some form of a sneaker (normally Converse). Before Maggy, I never wore sandals or boots or any shoe that showed my toes. Three months into our friendship, she brought a pair of flip flops to school for me to wear. When I refused (because I hate having my toes out and flip flops were against the rules), she guilt tripped me into changing shoes; I got detention. Now, I wear heels, and I hate that I lost myself because of Maggy’s influence. It wasn’t just shoes though. I wear skirts, dresses, and “to spice things up,” as Maggy would say, I started wearing leather jackets all because I was under the influence of the girl with the red-teal hair. My appearance throughout high school was an entire What Not to Wear episode (or maybe How Do I Look?). Slowly, I am getting back to my jeans, graphic tees, and sneakers, especially since my job prefers casual wear.
The thing about Maggy was she wouldn’t get out of her abusive relationship with Willy. She didn’t realize the mental hold he had on her, and it really affected our hang outs. Sometimes we made plans, and Maggy would have to cancel because Willy didn’t want her to leave the house. He was always telling her not to go here and not to go there; he rarely permitted her to talk to me. The fact that she even asked him for permission to speak to me was a problem. Any time I would go to her house, Willy would accuse Maggy of cheating on him or hanging out with guys she’s not allowed to be around (statements like these made me feel like I sounded like a man). The only reason I know about this is because when they weren’t together, they were either on speaker phone, or he was loudly heard through her earbud. It took weeks of convincing and two different meetings for Willy to believe that I was actually a female. Anyway, there were moments when I was able to get through her thick head about how bad he was for her, and they would be so close to breaking up. Then there was a moment of silence or intense eye contact before they said “I love you” to each other and started making out. The only guy in Maggy’s life Willy wasn’t against was Rick Fox.
The thing about Maggy was she had a shrine to Rick Fox. Rick is a very good looking guy, but I don’t think he’s shrine worthy. He’s nowhere near our age– not then and not now. That didn’t stop Maggy though. An entire wall of her bedroom was dedicated to Rick Fox. Any and every picture she could find of Rick Fox (even if the picture only consisted of a corner of his face) was added to the wall; it’s still there. He’s the reason she started watching Lifetime and Hallmark, two channels Maggie used to talk so much trash about– until they added Rick Fox. We couldn’t have one conversation without Rick Fox being mentioned; most of the heavier Rick Fox conversations went down at IHOP.
The thing about Maggy was her diet consisted mostly of IHOP. Whenever Willy allowed her to hang out with me outside of my house, her house, and his house, we went to IHOP. Any time Willy and Maggy went on a date, they went to IHOP; that’s actually where they met (he did the dishes). Maggy always ordered the Cheeseburger Omelet, and to spice things up, sometimes she would ask for no tomato. I’m sure that omelet is one of the most unhealthy things IHOP has to offer, and I tried to tell her that any chance I could get; of course, she never listened to me but still expected me to listen to everything she told me. Eating the same fatty food caused Maggy to gain a bunch of weight, which made Willy decide to start calling her fat and hassling her about going to the gym. Guess who got the blame for her weight gain and boyfriend bullying? Me. Not IHOP. Me.
The thing about Maggy was she tried to set me up with a guy named Sony (pronounced “sunny”). Whenever his name was said, I thought about the Disney show Sonny with a Chance. Maggy met Sony in health & wellness class (my high school’s boujee name for P.E.) when they bonded over their hatred for being graded based on one’s physical skill set. Maggy swore up and down the kid was sane, but I knew for a fact he wasn’t. Weeks before the attempted set up, Sony bumped into me at the vending machine, and after making really intense eye contact for two minutes, he loudly professed his love for me. I walked away. Later that afternoon, he followed me on every social platform possible and even kept up with me on my mom’s Facebook. I blocked him on everything, created new profiles, and changed my cell phone and house phone numbers; my mom stopped using her profile and started snooping on old high school classmates using grandma’s Facebook account. Sony is all the way crazy and will probably end up on a “Most Wanted List” somewhere. Turns out, Maggy only tried to set me up with Sony because she knew how well his creepiness got under my skin and “thought it would be funny.”
The thing about Maggy was without a doubt, she always called me out. Sometimes it was in private, in a very public area, or on Twitter; she never took it farther than Twitter. Every single time we hung out, Maggy subtweeted about me. I knew it was about me because it would be related to something I said or did while we hung out, like “what kind of psychotic idiot mixes relish with mayonnaise. oh yeah. YOU.” My mom followed her using a spam account and told me that the tweet was all about me; that was the day I realized what subtweeting was (I also realized my mom was more knowledgeable about my generation than I was). After a while, Maggy’s words started to hurt, and I ended up deleting my account. She was relentless though, and when senior year began, she started saying her trash to my face. That’s when I knew I lost her. She was no longer the girl with the teal hair and blonde highlights; instead, she was the girl with pitch black hair to match her soul.
The thing about Maggy was she didn’t exist. I am alone.