Tis the Season.

I looked down at her left hand, as a glimmer of light caught my eye. I gingerly took her hand and admired the ring on her finger. "Are YOU engaged?" She laughed, and then told me the story of how her and her fiance met. I hadn't seen or spoken to Shannon St. Claire for years, and yet we spoke as if we had always been the best of friends and met on a daily basis. It was nice to catch up on everything. I could see the sparkle in her eye and hear the excitement in her voice. "The wedding's in June, at the Brown Hotel!" I congratulated her and embraced her with a large hug. The conversation led into how everyone is getting married this time of year ("Tis the season!" she chipped in)- I've been to three wedding receptions with in the past two weeks, my sister is engaged, another sister is well on her way, a friend of mine is engaged, and everyone else and my aunt seem to be flaunting a ring on her finger and a man by her side. Just another reminder of how lonely I am, or at least how lonely I've become.

I returned home from work, exhausted. Holiday shoppers don't seem to understand the toll they take on retail employees. I felt dirty, I had so much that needed to be done, yet I was unable to muster any energy to complete these tedious tasks that lay ahead of me. I decided that I may as well spend a bit of time on the computer, just to catch up on what I had missed. My facebook home page hadn't even been loaded for ten seconds when my eyes fell upon this:

Travis Schneider My best friend is getting married in two days.. WOW! How the years keep flying. Congrats Johnathon and Erin, I hope the best for you. I love you guys! 15 seconds ago

I stared in disbelief at the screen, speechless, breathless, my mind clouded with all thoughts of sorts. After what seemed like hours of staring, I closed the computer, got up, and walked to the bathroom. I need to get myself clean. I stepped into the shower, turned on the water, and fell to the porcelain floor of the tub, curled up, tears streaming down my face, trying to catch my breath, while the scalding water beat on my back. I wasn't trying to get myself clean. I was attempting to wash him away.

We ended not even four months ago, and now he's getting married in two days, and didn't even have the decency to tell me. I guess it really is the season of marriage.

And the stabbing pain in my chest has returned, as if it had never left to begin with.

Changes.

Tonight was the first time I had seen you in who knows how long. It wouldn't have happened, but I was saying goodbye to a friend, and I didn't see you until it was too late. I tried to walk away, pretending I hadn't even noticed, and walked faster when I pretended that I didn't hear you call my name. I had to stop and turn around when I heard my name shouted at the top of your lungs, because we both know there was no way I would not have been able to hear that obnoxious squeal.

I'm sure you noticed my forced smile. I didn't really make any effort in attempting to have it appear genuine, anyways. It was no pleasure of mine, was it? I had absolutely nothing to say to you, even if I was holding back all vocabulary of sorts. We exchanged the occasional, "How are you?"s and the stereotypical answers. "Work. School." Wait for it, wait for it... "Still with my boyfriend." THERE it is. I could tell that was the only thing you wanted to say. I could hear the stammer of words as you searched for something, anything, so that He was not the focus of your life. Poor job of doing so, I must say. I could see you just itching to bring it up. I get it. You're dating him, you have been dating him, and you will be dating him. You don't have to tell me twice.

You've completely changed, and I don't mean that in a good way. Your eyes are dark, and empty, just like the words that came out of your mouth. Your hair is naturally blonde, and this dark coating you've been casing it in just makes you look washed out and sick. Your lack of inner beauty is shining through. Above all else, you pretend you have the perfect life, but through all your feigned smiles and forced bubbly voice, I can see just how unhappy you are.

You used to not care what anyone thought of you. Or at least you knew how to pretend you didn't care, but I guess we all crave the approval of others. I remember when you had dyed your hair a light brown/dark blonde, and you said you hated it, because your light, yellow blonde hair was what made you YOU. You loved to laugh and have fun and spend time with the ones you loved. You used to be able to carry conversations that lasted for hours on end, embellished with our giggles and our tears. You were determined, and had so much potential, and now you're letting everything else hold you back.

Had this chance run-in meeting happened about a month ago, I would have taken this opportunity to say everything that I had wanted to for years. I would have wanted to speak every cruel word I could to completely tear you apart and make you feel absolutely and utterly worthless. I wanted to make you feel so small and alone, and I wanted my words to penetrate deep and become embedded in your brain so you could remember them forever. But seeing you tonight, it wasn't anger or hatred that I felt, but pity. I sincerely felt sorry for you, because I could see how unhappy you were. Your eyes emulated your misery, and you're doing everything you could to hide it. You're looking for happiness in the places everyone tells you you should find it- Through your one and only long term boyfriend. Through your appearance, with your artificially dark hair and extra blanket under your skin and unflattering clothes. Through your few friends you only have because they are who you live with and are convenient for you, as you have the talent of burning bridges with those you were once close with. Because those are the only things that can make you happy, right? At least that's what everyone tells you. I immediately was filled with guilt for all of the cruel things I had said before. Of all the cruel things I wanted to say. Whether or not you are aware of this, I can see it clearly. I only know because I went through it myself this past year, and it was hell. Seeing you, and seeing your eyes, was like looking into a mirror with my reflection from a year ago, and I just wanted to completely break down again.

I'm not saying that I want to be friends with you again. By any means, your lack of perspicacity is something I honestly don't think I could handle any longer than our brief two minute conversation. But no one deserves to be miserable and despondent.

Fame.

I'll probably edit this later. But I'll go ahead and post it now.

I find it interesting how one becomes famous anymore. More and more, Fame has become another label, and the only way to get that label is to become scandalous, provocative, and become something that sometimes you entirely aren't. But who wants to worship someone famous who is genuine?

No one has ever heard of Stefani Germanotta. She has natural dark brunette hair, with matching mahogany eyes. Her music is pretty, as she is a talented pianist as well as song writer. Her music conveys the familiar messages of love that we hear all too much about anymore. Her voice is deep and rich, filled with the color. She wears her fashionable outfits, nothing too glamorous or extreme, her makeup is simple and natural. She is plain, sweet, simple, but nothing special. She is too much like everyone else. Nothing Special.

Everyone, however, has heard of and heard Lady GaGa. She is everything Stefani is not. From image- with her platinum blonde hair and extreme hair styles, over the top designer couture outfits, consummate make-up, to music- hard beats and dance techno and lyrics of sex and disco-sticks, to behavior- openly admits and shows attraction towards men and women, sexual acts in public- you get the picture. Don't get me wrong, I believe Lady GaGa is absolutely fabulous and one of the most talented musicians out there, and she deserves every bit of fame she gets.

Why this comparison? Because Stefani Germanotta and Lady GaGa are one in the same.

My point lies in this- young girls are already faced with so much from the media, with the need to be thin and the need to be loved (and the only way to love and be loved is to have sex with someone who won't last forever, right?), and now they are shown the only way to make it in today's society anymore is to become like this provocative icon. They have to be outlandish and crazy. They have to become a focus of sex. They have to become all of these things to be recognized and acknowledged.

I guess I will never be accepted by society.