Unlike the majority of people, I hate Fridays. No, I really hate Fridays. Fridays have always been awful for me. Now Friday the 13th? Well, it could go either way, but I tend to have better luck on Fridays that are on the 13th. Today? Not. So. Much.
So back to hating Fridays.
It started back in 4th grade. I was constantly bullied by this one girl who basically targeted me. During & after school, but I never said a word to anyone about it. Ridiculed by her for wearing glasses, being “too skinny” (you’d never know I was skinny by looking at me now), and of course the nick names of 4 eyes and other names that rhymed with my name (which happens to rhyme with dicky and hicky). Yeah, pretty frickin’ special.
How does this muster into my hating Fridays? She would try to pick a fight with me every damn Friday. One Friday she actually broke my glasses. The following Monday, my mom had some choice words with her mom and they had to pay for my new glasses. Another Friday she pushed me into the biggest, muddiest frickin’ mud puddle. Yes, everything this shit head did was on a Friday.
It was close to the end of the school year in 5th grade. It was a Monday, it was raining as usual in the Pacific Northwest, and she picked a fight with me. But wait! It wasn’t a Friday! She pushed me into a chain link fence and took a swing at me, she missed, and at this time I found out how much rage was inside me. I took a swing back at her clocking her right in the jaw, she looked like she was going to kill me, then I got tunnel vision, the next thing I remember is pushing her so hard she landed in the middle of a huge blackberry bush. I looked around. And apparently I looked crazy because her friends were running like hell. I picked up my book bag, told her, while she was screaming and crying and trying to get out of the sticker bush, that if she touched me again I’d fuckin’ kill her.
Needless to say, she steered clear of me, and so did her friends.
Then enter Junior High. I frickin’ hated junior high school with a passion. Dreaded going. 8th grade year, this time bullied by another girl and yet again on a Friday, trying to walk home, she tried to pick a fight with me. I was like “just stay away from me”. She was bigger than me, in 7th grade and was known for being a fighter, no matter what a girl’s age. My so-called “friends” weren’t even backing me up when I had backed them up plenty of times. I was getting closer to my house and she finally let me alone.
That is, until Monday.
That Monday my “friends” acted like nothing happened, in short I told them all (in sorts) to fuck off because if they can’t stick up for me like I had for them, then they weren’t any friend of mine. After school, on the school bus, that girl started in again with me. Trying really hard to ignore it, but the more she smacked the back of my head the more pissed I was getting. The bus driver had her move up to the front. Right as I got off the school bus that girl started pushing me, hitting the back of my head as I was trying to walk away. She was trying to take my book bag, and I was holding on with all my might; having flashbacks of that rainy day in 5th grade. I finally was able to get my book bag from her grasp. One of her friends pulled her away and asked her “Do you NOT know about the sticker bush incident?!” Apparently she didn’t, because she laughed, took a swing at me & I punched her in the jaw (yes, I guess that’s where I tend to aim?) which in turn sent her flying into a neighbor’s rose bush. I picked up my book bag, tears stinging my eyes because I was so pissed, her friends looking in shock, I calmly said, “touch me again, and I will kill you.”
The following day at school rumors were flying around about the “rose bush incident”. No one could believe it until they saw the lovely bruise on that girl’s jaw where she tried, I’m sure diligently, to cover it up with her makeup.
As I grew older, Fridays have continued to be my wonky days and Mondays continue to be my best days. And although people still try to have pissing matches with me, I don’t throw punches or push back; there’s times when I’m more verbal & kill them with words, but it’s my silence that scares people the most. When I’m silent, I am praying that God & Karma come swiftly at them. But that’s another story in itself.
Now, what about the other days in between Monday & Friday? They can go either way, but I don’t care because I try to do the best I can for my family when things fall apart and spiral out of control. As for today, Friday the 13th, it still sucks, but I’m grateful to be alive.