One

Sometimes, I wonder what it would've been like if I'd been born as someone else. A completely different human with completely different friends, and a completely different status. I wonder if I could be like Jack from history class, captain of the football team, who's had fifty different girlfriends this year alone. I wonder if I could be Aidan, from art, who has worse skills than me and yet still is the class favorite, by teacher and students. I wonder, and I wonder, and I just continue wondering until I feel like my head is going to burst.

That could never happen, dumbass, I think to myself. Everyone thinks you're a pussy.

Even though I've known some of these people the entire time I've been in school, almost everyone doesn't even know I exist. And it's not even that I want to be popular, but the idea of not having a girlfriend by my junior year has been grating at my mind for days, nonstop. I look around in the hallways at that prison and see a couple making out here, and another holding hands there. It's as if I'm the only guy in the world that will never have a girlfriend, no matter what I do.

I know what you're thinking: if I want a girlfriend so bad, I should just ask a girl out. I've heard it all before. But I can never seem to find the right one. Maybe dating in high school just isn't for me. I guess I'll have college girls to look forward to, at least.

College girls, huh? I bet none of them would want me either.

I sit up in bed, deciding that worrying about garbage like that isn't helping anything. I peer over at my nightstand and see my dimmed digital clock read "12:31." I sigh and stand up, trying not to make any noise so I don't wake my parents. My insomnia has gotten progressively worse in the past few months, but it's something I have to live with.

I turn on my desk light, my room becoming illuminated with light that my fragile eyes strained to look at. Squinting, I sit down at the desk and think about some doodles I could draw. Mindlessly, I start drawing some characters, some semi-realistic doodles of people imagined by my tireless brain. But after a few minutes, I realize that my efforts to distract myself from my thoughts through art are fruitless. I put down my pencil, like one would lay down their sword and shield after battle. Except this battle is with the nagging voice in my head.

I head back over to my nightstand and check up on my phone, which I haven't looked at since I started to try to go to sleep two hours ago. There's not too many notifications, and most of them are just my apps bothering me, but I do have a few texts, so I check on those.

They're from Austin.

Of course, they're just memes, but they give me an excuse to distract myself. And even though it's getting closer and closer to 1am, I feel confident enough that Austin's still awake. I'm pretty sure he never sleeps.

"Hey, you up?" I text him. I click away and check on Instagram for a few minutes, waiting for him to reply. I see a notification and click on it.

"Yeah."

I quickly respond, "How do you ask a girl out?"

He types for a few seconds and sends, "I don't know any better than you do, man."

I sigh. "Sorry for bothering you. I've just been worried about getting a girlfriend so much."

"That's not healthy dude. You'll find one eventually."

I shake my head to myself and plop down on my bed again. "You should ask Tristan how to do it."

He replies, "But my brother's a dick."

"But he's a dick who's had a bunch of girlfriends," I reply, smiling to myself.

We change the topic, chatting about various things from the day, like when a girl puked in my science class, or how the principal accidentally held a private conversation over the loudspeaker for everyone to hear. I continue texting him for a long time, not realizing the minutes are slipping away rapidly. And yet, I couldn't put my phone down. Some people end text conversations really quickly because they don't know what to say. But Austin and I always have something to say to each other, even when our days weren't that exciting.

"2:14." Once I realize the time, I try to find a way to end our conversation.

"It's getting pretty late, I should prob go to bed."

"Go get your beauty rest. I'll cya tomorrow," he responds, ending our back-and-forth chit chat.

I put my phone on the nightstand beside me and I turn over on my side to try to finally get some rest. It takes me a while to stop my mind from thinking about the conversation I had with my best friend. It's as though it keeps hitting the rewind button and playing all of our silly little jokes and stories over and over again, not wanting to miss any second of it.

That's the thing with Austin. He's such an uplifting presence in my life, and he always has been. It's so nice that he's my best friend, because he always turns my mood around for the better, even with the silliest of conversations. And with that thought in mind, I'm finally able to drift away into sleep.