Asterisk*

Backstories and Backstabbing*

*In the tense of the shit hole that is high school 

---

The haunting of a person is unlike any other,

Followed around,

Crept around,

Broken in your dreams.

The haunting of heart's honor,

Regardless if you mind.

---

Marcus

People created rules for a reason: to have something simple to follow. It makes life easier. It's almost become a list of things that people check off from, making sure to get everything completely word for word. When I learned how to read, it was like my parents handed me that list and expected me to accomplish everything that was on it. Married. Kids. Become a millionaire and have a rise to fame like no other. Well, maybe not the last part, but I know they are secretly hoping I'll pull in the big bucks so I can pay them back for all I "owe" them, which seemed to be a never ending list of toys I'd thrown tantrums for years ago. So I took the list and walked around with it in my pocket, but I failed at everything else.

Getting into a good college was still up in the air, even though everyone else had gotten theirs.

The 4.0 GPA I was aiming for was butchered due to a seventeen point math problem.

I almost got fired from my job for being late because my brother couldn't take out the laundry.

Oh yeah, and then there's the sexuality crisis. Kind of.

There's this societal expectation that love means sex. I mean, even the dictionary defines falling in love as a "deep romantic or sexual desire towards someone." Everyone who doesn't constantly suck someone else's face off is either stereotyped a religious nut or a loser. So I thought about it, and I've come to the conclusion: no fucking way.

Listening to people describe their experiences is like listening to someone describing a gory horror movie. It made me squirm. Great for them, but not for me. It wasn't like I was against the idea; people should do whatever the hell they want to do. But, they should also be able to choose what not to do.

As high school came to an end, I figured I would never have to see any of these losers ever again. So I told someone. That conversation went a little something like this:

Aiden: "That girl is so hot."

Me: "I don't think I'm attracted to girls. At least in that way."

Aiden: "Okay, bro."

I think that went well. At least, better than I expected it to be.

Today was like any other day, so I walked in with my head looking firmly at the ground, studying the tiles on the floor like they were expensive mosaics. I headed to my locker, picking up a few books I would need for class. I headed towards my regular group of friends, which consisted of some dimwits I had befriended in pre-school and somehow still got along with. Joining the circle they had made, I clutched my books to my chest and pretended to be interested in whatever they were talking about.

"Yo, what do you think?" Kadance asked, looking at me.

"What?"

"Emily? Like super hot, right?"