T for language and depressing themes.

"Wow, your dress is gorgeous!" I say as I fake a smile for what feels like the millionth time.

"Thanks! Now all I have to do is decide if I want to do an up-do or wear my hair down," Amelia told me with the world's most satisfying grin on her face.

Amelia was my best friend. And I did think that the dress was beautiful. I also knew she would be even more gorgeous in it. She would have her luscious blonde hair curled and pinned just right, and the dress would hug her in all the right places and make her look like a princess.

But I couldn't help but get upset. I couldn't bring myself to be happy for her no matter how hard I tried, and in the end I think that it ended up making me even more upset.

The thing is though, that from late January until the middle of May my friends would constantly bombard me with their beautiful dresses. This was more than a challenge to not end up hating myself due to the fact I knew I would never be able to show one of my own to them.

I know. I was selfish, thinking about myself when they were showing me their dress. But I really wanted to have the opportunity to even try one on. Was it too much to fool people for one day into thinking I was somewhat decent looking?

"You'll look absolutely stunning no matter what you decide to do," I told her.

"Aw, thanks! I'm so excited, Alice!"

She was beaming brighter than a bloody light house now. Unfortunately, I quickly knocked it out.

"I'm glad you found something since I'm not going to prom. I'd be stressing too much about finding a dress."

Lie. I was actually in a ton of heartache over the idea of not going.

"Stop saying that!" she protested. "You're going whether you want to or not! It's our senior year and you are going!"

We had this same exact conversation last year when I announced I wasn't going.

My mind went on auto-pilot to the same speech I'd given a thousand times.

"You can keep believing all you want, however I'm will not be attending."

"You're going," she fiercely argued. "I'm not letting you not go to prom at least once in your life. It's so much fun and I just really want my best friend there."

And believe me, I did want to be there. However my overwhelming fears controlled my desires, and so my mind was set on no.

The bell rang and finally not only was school over, but the discussion was as well.

"I will see you tomorrow." I swiped my books off my desk as fast as I could and hurried to my locker. All I wanted to do was go home. I just wanted to lock myself away from the world. I didn't think that was too much to ask for.

When I reached my home I dashed right up the stairs. I went to my room and slammed the door shut and opened up the pain I felt as I flopped onto my bed, feeling tears stream down my acne covered cheeks.

I didn't want to think about bloody prom. Truth be told, it actually made me extremely depressed thinking about it.

You see, I mentioned earlier that every single one of my friends was going. And while that might have possibly persuaded me to go in some alternate universe, there was one major factor that kept me from joining them.

They all had a date, and that's the only way I vowed I would go to prom.

It was really idiotic for me to decide that too because I think I knew that in the back of my head that I wouldn't ever be asked. It wasn't difficult to understand why.

I mean, who would want to take the literal embodiment of human anger and bitterness to a place of such elegance and excitement? Who would honestly want to take the girl with eyebrows that were three centimeters thick? Who also had the thinnest and most damaged blonde hair to match the rest of the look that said, "fuck everyone and everything"?

And the moment I had come to this realization, I'd also come to the conclusion that they all would have one and that I wouldn't, it was a decisive no. I wasn't ready to put myself through an enormous amount of embarrassment. I didn't want to be the only girl to show up without a date.

What's even worse is that when Amelia (being the loving friend that she is) tried to organize an extremely possible date for me, the boy had said no. I can't blame him for deciding to ask another girl.

It might have been a different story if I could have gotten a male friend to go with me (any guy would do), but I didn't even have that.

I was Alice Kirkland, professional loner and loser. Everyone fucking knew it. I wasn't going to prom by myself and further proving that fact. It already killed me inside to feel so alone on a daily basis, and I didn't want to show everyone how lonely I really was. (I'd never been really good at expressing my feelings. It mostly came across as either sarcasm or complaining.)

Prom raised a lot of my insecurities. Especially the one about relationships and seclusion.

Fucking prom. Who invented the idea of having a date for this shit anyways?

Anyway, the date idea really reminded me how the one thing I'm confident in is the fact that I will be alone in this world. With everyone having a date (mostly by having a boyfriend), it made me realize I'm so far behind in relationships.

Some of my friends have gone further than I cared to know with a guy, and I'm almost a legal adult and I've never even held hands with a guy.

I'm supposed to be attending a university in the fall and I haven't even kissed a guy.

That made me want to vomit.

It reminded me I would always be terrible with people. That they didn't like me. That I won't ever be good enough for any single human being. That I was ugly. That I was destined to be alone with a dozen cats.

All prom did was constantly remind me of this sad fact of my existence for months to a point where the recognition of eternal isolation would make me think it would be better to kill myself than to live alone for the rest of my meaningless existence.

So by not going, I could avoid the whole problem together. I could avoid embarrassment. I didn't have to get my hopes up at the idea of being liked. It was much easier to stay home with a bucket of ice cream and to cry than to hide in a bathroom stall while I saw everyone being so…

loved. (Or at least tolerated.)

By now I was silently sobbing into my pillow enough to fill the Nile River. I couldn't handle the subject anymore.

I was human. I had wants. I had fears. I had feelings. I wanted to be loved. Yet I was scared and lost and I didn't know much except for the fact that prom brought an overwhelming feeling of self hatred and loneliness. No matter how hard I tried to make nice friends and to be a kind person, I knew that I would never receive what I desperately needed.

All prom did was make me realize what was inevitable and what I could never have, and I hated it.

So I gave writing a shot after I've been out of it for several months. I've never worked with a nyo america or england, so the voice is probably outta whack. I've tried to edit it myself as best as I could, but there are probably still a few mistakes. Feedback would be super cool.