wish i were ⇾ p.c

20- heather

"I wish I were Heather."
-conan gray

I spent the entire weekend, day and night, thinking about what happened with Connor.

He was so sweet and seemed like such a nice guy. All he wanted to do was kiss me. And... maybe I wanted to kiss him back. I don't know.

But why couldn't I? Why did I think he would do the things Bob does? Why is it that, since Bob, I've only been able to see the bad in people?

I wrote another song. About being jealous of a pretty, beautiful girl who got all the guys. A girl named Heather.

I still remember
Third of December
Me in your sweater

You said it looked better
On me, than it did you
Only if you knew

How much I liked you
But I watch your eyes, as she
Walks by

What a sight for
Sore eyes

Brighter than a
Blue sky

She's got you
Mesmerized

While I die

Why would you ever kiss me?
I'm not even half, as pretty
You gave her your sweater
It's just polyester, but you like her better
Wish I were Heather

Watch as she stands with
Her holding your hand
Put your arm 'round her shoulder
Now I'm getting colder
But how could I hate her?
She's such an angel
But then again, kinda
Wish she were dead, as she

Walks by

What a sight for
Sore eyes

Brighter than a
Blue sky

She's got you
Mesmerized

While I die
Why would you ever kiss me?
I'm not even half, as pretty

You gave her your sweater
It's just polyester, but you like her better
I wish I were Heather

Wish I were Heather
Wish I were Heather
Why would you ever kiss me?
I'm not even half as pretty
You gave her your sweater...It's just polyester, but you like her better
Wish I were...

It didn't take me long to realize my song wasn't about a girl named Heather. It was about a girl named Cherry.

Wish I were Cherry.

I hate to think it, but maybe if they hadn't started to date, all this shit with Bob wouldn't even be happening. Because I wouldn't have left school that day and got drunk and never would've started relying so much on alcohol. And I wouldn't have skipped lunch that day and ended up in that empty classroom...

I shuddered at the thought and picked up the handle of this big glass bottle of straight vodka. I downed an eighth of the thing in just a few sips.

Sometimes I think drinking so much will get me to sleep. Like I'd pass out from the drunkenness. But that hasn't happened yet. So what else could help me?

Sleeping pills!

I'm such an idiot, why hadn't I thought of it before?

Sleeping pills, I decided. The whole bottle should do just the trick.

I checked the time. 7:30. I needed to get in the car for school now. So after school, for sure. The whole damn bottle.

My mom called me downstairs in a hurry. We had to go.

"Coming!" I yelled back. I ran in the bathroom and quickly brushed my teeth and tongue to get the scent of alcohol off me. Then I shoved three sticks of gum in my mouth just incase.

I ran down the stairs with my sweater unbuttoned, shoes in hand, and my hair still rough and tangled from not brushing it. I only had time to put on concealer, I got too distracted to do much else.

My mother wrinkled her nose at me. For a second my heart skipped. Did she smell the alcohol?

"You look a mess. Sweetie, you oughta start waking up earlier so you aren't always rushing around in the mornings." I breathed a sigh of relief, but had to stop myself from laughing.

Wake up earlier? If only she knew.

***
When I got to school, everything felt really off.

It was just such a weird feeling, but something wasn't right.

Everyone looked kind of upset. Especially the Socs, mainly, but also a few middle classers and even a couple greasers. Did something happen over the weekend that I wasn't aware of?

Yes. My question was answered in home room, when the teacher (who even looked really sad) told us to be silent for the important announcement which was about to come over the intercom.

"Good morning students," the Principal's voice blared through the speakers. "I believe some of you have heard the very upsetting news. I'm so sorry for all of our loss."

Huh? Loss? What loss? What the hell is going on?

"For those of you who haven't heard..." the principal took a deep breath, "I regret to inform you of the loss of one of our 10th grade students, Bob Sheldon."

The principal continued to talk, but I couldn't hear him.

Bob? What? He's... he's dead?

That's good news for me, but I saw so many people crying. To him, Bob was a good guy. A classmate. A friend. I see him as the bad guy in my world but he could've just as easily been the good guy in theirs.

"Bob was our star football player. He received exceptionally high grades. One of our school's pride and joy. Surely, he will be missed. We are not sure why he took his own life-"

He killed himself? What?

"But we do know that this is going to be hard on all his friends, family, everyone. We have grief counselors here available for anyone who needs it, we recommend everyone to talk to someone..."

I tuned out of the announcements at that point. I couldn't hear anything besides the ringing in my ears.

Bob, gone... never coming back...

I realized he would never be able to touch me again. Never. And he couldn't manipulate me anymore. Take advantage of me. Hurt me. Rape me.

Tears streamed down my face. My classmates were passing it off as me grieving for him just like everybody else. But in reality, I felt so happy. I was finally free.