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March 09* 2004, 11:21 am
why is it that i can barely remember all of the compliments that i have ever received in my life but i can remember every time someone told me i was ugly right to my face? i remember in 7th grade i was friends with a nerdy boy named keith. he wanted to be a comic artist and drew me comics all the time. usually he just did calvin and hobbes type stuff. he was pointy and looked like a rat. he also had very few friends. i had a teacher ask me in 8th grade if i was in love with him. she was the kind of cool teacher that chats with students and knows about their personal lives. i was horrified at the implication. i had never been in love with keith. one night we were at skateland (for those of you not from the middle states that is a roller skating rink) and he was skulking around outside and pretending to be too cool for skating. i think i was too. this was during my very metal phase. i was a real bad ass. i found him outside by the parking lot and he wanted to walk around to the back of the place for some reason. i believe it was to see if something was still spray painted on the back of the building. so we got back there. and for absolutely no reason, with no prompting what so ever, he turned to me and said "i don't want to kiss you. you are just too ugly." all i said was "okay." but i never wanted to kiss him. i just didn't understand where it came from and how someone so friendless and mousey was calling me ugly for no reason. i never said anything mean to him. we grew apart as high school approached. i had a lot of friends and did well at school. he was the opposite. i think he ended up going to juvy or something. i ran into his dad during 11th grade at the dry cleaner that i worked at. his dad cried when he saw me saying that he wished that keith had taken more after me. he would give me enormous tips (especially considering you don't tip on dry cleaning) and he said to put it toward college. i have never heard anything about him since but i can still remember him as clearly as anything.
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