lizzie geller was grossly in love with her older sister's best friend rachel green in high school. seeing her in a wedding dress in their hang out spot wasn't anticipated, neither was the resurfacing of old emotions.
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─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
I was browsing the psychology section. Monica had told me not to let what mom said get to me and she was right. I still thought she was right even when I looked up the symptoms for depression in a very large book that had all sorts of mental disorders.
Turns out, there are lots of different types of depression and upon reading the symptoms, I discovered I didn't really identify with any of them in particular. Perhaps there was a section for a broken heart. What Chandler had said earlier was weighing heavy on my nerves. I'd run away from him when I saw he was right and here I was, still running as I put the book back on the shelf.
I hated this. I hated that I was in love with Rachel. It used to feel good, like when we were teenagers. Like I had my whole life laid ahead of me and I was the ruler of all my choices. But now it was just a bitter tumour, nestled against my heart that I couldn't rid. Had I ever wanted to fall for a straight girl? Of course not but for a while there was something romantic about it; something that made me feel like I was in an unrequited love movie. The reality of this movie was sinking in and if I had the remote, I would have just turned it off. I hated everything.
"One pack of Newports, please." Cigarettes, really? Yes. I needed them. Even if anyone begged to differ, it was starting to darken outside and I needed the warmth. "Can I see your ID?" Dammit I got this every time. Many girls my age would have been pleased to hear that they looked younger than they were but it just made me feel like a kid again. I showed him my national citizenship license and paid for the cigarettes.
Girls my age. Those three words constantly made me wonder if I was a failure. What were girls my age doing? Were they too harbouring feelings for the girl they've loved since they were in 9th grade? Was every girl my age wallowing in self-pity and smoking cigarettes outside the local barbershop? Were we all the same really? I hoped for their sake not.
"Lizzie?" I looked up. "Joey!" I threw the cigarette to the side. "Hey! How was the Al Pachino shooting?" I asked. "Are you smoking?" he sniffed the air around me. "No actually, there was this guy here and he was-" Joey reached into my coat pocket and pulled out the packet of Newports with an unamused facial expression. "Oh my God! He must have put them in there," I exclaimed as he pocketed them.
"Oh yeah, if you didn't smoke, then kiss me." "Ew- no Joe!" I pushed him away. We began to walk back to Central Perk. "So seriously how did the Al Pachino thing go?" I nudged him with a smile. "Terrible, I got fired!" He groaned. "You're kidding, what happened?" I linked arms with him.
"I know this wasn't the role of a lifetime but I really wanted to put my all into it," he began. "Do I wanna hear this?" "Anyway, they said I was trying too hard and told me to leave," he muttered. "I'm just so bummed out about it." "Ah! Hahaha!" I laughed. "Get it because 'bummed'- no okay you're not in the mood. I get it," I looked down. "No actually I am in the mood for it," he cracked a smile. "It's a total bummer!" "Right?! Feeling better already huh?" "Yeah!"
