The Workshop discussion

— one
this is based on life, mostly my life and when it began. and no, my life did not begin at birth.

— two
please no plagiarism. it has taken me almost a year to be inspired enough to start this and it would kill me if someone copied it a claimed it to be their own.

— three
please be kind. I know i'm not a good writer, but I don't need that to be rubbed in anymore than it already has been.

why should I be jealous? she
doesn't even know I exist,
so why am I so jealous? I
mean nothing to her, I don't
even know what i'm feeling or
why i'm feeling this way, we're
just friends. it seems these days
I constantly have to remind myself
of that. what could she ever
see in me? she's too good
for me.
— i. b. | december 2015

i've seen the way she looks
at her, the way she laughs
and jokes with her, the way
she smiles when she talks to
her. i've seen all of it.
it kills me to watch, but
I still do. why? because the
jealousy reminds me that I can
still feel something.
— i. b. | january 2016

I remember it so clearly, the
happy new year text message from
her, the emojis she used, how
she had every word in capital
letters. it made me feel good,
knowing that she was thinking of
me at the start of the
new year. but inside I knew
she had sent her the same
message, with the same emojis, the
same capital letters. all of it
was the same. I wasn't special.
I wasn't her. I was nothing.
— i. b. | february 2016

things were changing. we were talking, she
genuinely seemed interested, but who was
i to tell whether she was
or not. i called her doll
face. she called me sweetie, we
talked all night. she told me
that she loves me. i was
shocked. all this time and i
thought she loved her, but she
loves me. ordinary, awkward, me.
— i. b. | march 11th, 2016