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| I hated high school. Until I started dating Brent, I pretty much spent every night before I fell asleep crying for not wanting to go back the next day. After I began dating Brent I still hated the whole affair just as much, but at least I didn’t have to eat my lunch in the dark corner next to the girl’s bathroom—I got to sit at a table.
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| Needless to say, I had no friends of my own, nothing extracurricular to do on nights and weekends, no conceivable reason for getting up every day save my impeccable academic record.
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| However, now that I’m out of college, I’ve fallen prey to a severe nostalgia for my teen years and even the middle-of-nowhere town itself. I find myself wondering what my classmates are doing (you know, save the ones I know are in jail for killing their wives or in California teaching at poker college—god I love Luke (he’s the poker one, not the wife-killer)). I find myself wanting to catch up with the people I spent so much time and effort avoiding for four years.
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| I hate it. My dad kindly informed me that my five-year high school reunion is coming up this year. I felt the momentary need to go and I despise every emotion behind that momentary need. It’s not that the people were horrible—it was honestly like any other high school on the planet and I was like every other socially dysfunctional high school-er on earth.
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| But the few people from high school I would still love to be friends with aren’t even in my graduating class (and not likely to be friends with me ever again anyway) so going would accomplish nothing except for embarrassment that I haven’t done more with my life. So I need to focus on this. I need to remember how much I hated those four years and convince myself that all of that shit isn’t worth the pangs of nostalgia I feel just because I keep thinking things have changed. I’m still as socially dysfunctional as I ever was.
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| So, by December 31, 2006, I damn well better have avoided my five-year high school reunion.
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