I’ve relived prom over and over again. I can’t get out of it. You might’ve seen my other posts on here about this, hopefully. I’ve been trying so long to have some internet access, since I came across this randomly on AOL.
It’s been months since I’ve been able to be verified (?) or accepted here, because my email is out of use nowadays. I can’t leave this timeline, or thread, or whatever the fuck people call it. I’m stuck. Maybe one of you can find the moment that trapped me, so I’ll give the entire timeline (and I mean entire, since I’ve written it verbatim over and over).
It started when Liam picked me up. He looked cute, the first 3 times it happened. He’d pulled his red hair into a gelled quiff, which didn’t suit him, but his eagerness made up for it. He was so happy to see me in my horrendous purple dress. A dress which, had I known it would be plastered on me every waking moment, would’ve immediately been tossed the instant I tried it on in the shop.
I came down the stairs, cheeks flushed, and my parents cooing over photos of us together, gushing comments thrown left and right. Back then I would’ve cringed; now I feel apathy, as I stare into my mother’s Nikon CoolPix E100. Yes, I’m a 90s kid, that’s never left the 90s. 98’ specifically.
The 1979 Honda Civic did impress me at one point, but now I wish I could see the newer cars; holy hell! Maybe they even have them hovering! He gave me his keys because he knew he’d be getting drunk.
I get escorted to the school dance, and no matter how sour my face is - no matter how much I could cry (which I have) and squeal, and cause a scene, no one notices. The dance has dated music (I assume dated for all of you), and Liam kisses my hand, like clockwork, and forces me into a twirl. I, like I did when I was 17, reject him, and he moves onto Jamie Kinderling. They chew each other’s lips off, and I, in the most horrifically, awkward moment ever, am voted prom queen, and Liam king. We stand up on the make-shift stage on the gym, and he immediately jumps off to tell Jamie that she’s his ‘real’ queen.
The first time it happened, I sobbed. Sobbed and screamed and bawled. I was obviously 17 mentally then, but now I must be, I don’t know, nearing 40, or maybe over 40. It doesn’t matter - I’m watching the most boring thing occur, and yet everyone reacts in the same way they did all those years ago. My face is plain, yet the cheerleaders have come up to me to tell me the same shit: “You’re so much better than he is.” “I heard Kyle from the football team always had a thing for you.”
I don’t care. I had dreams. Dreams to be a vet. I did so many AP classes for what? To be stuck, reliving what I assume must’ve been what the world deemed my worst point of life that far on? I surely would’ve, and could’ve, dealt with more in my life? This can’t have been the worst thing my life would’ve dealt with.
And then the drinking happens. Kyle gives me a bottle of vodka and tries to kiss me, which I rejected. The cheerleaders ask for a ride home, and I oblige. I’m not drunk. It was only 3 shots. Maybe 4. But I was sober. I was that first night. I have relived it enough to know I was sober, I promise.
We drive. It’s fine, apart from the constant yelling. I’m there again, over and over. It was their fault. Liam and Jamie should’ve looked when they decided to cross the road, randomly. I didn’t mean to hit them. I wasn’t trying to. I’ve repented enough; I’ve seen their mangled bodies on the road enough times, their limbs stuck between the wheels of Liam’s car; blonde hair tangled in the pipes.
I didn’t mean to accelerate when I first did it. I really didn’t. It was a slip of my heel, my shoe got caught. I swear. I’ve repented enough, so please, whoever sees this, absolve me of my sins. I was just a teen who made a mistake.
I hate prom.