I started painting my nails black two years ago. It was the day he forgot about me.
It was the day he started kissing that other girl in between classes.
She was a cheerleader. He was a football player. I should have seen it coming.
At the time I was the funny girl, and also kind of smart.
I wasn’t a nerd; I mostly got friends from my wit and sense of humor.
I knew who I would sit next to at lunch. I knew who I would go to the movies with.
I never hung out with his group, though. Maybe that was the problem.
We weren’t always together, the way they are now.
I never liked his group.
They were mean. They were vile. They were jerks. They hated me.
They didn’t want him to go out with me.
They all went out with cheerleaders.
Who was I? What was funny and smart to them?
They expected him to be the same, to go out with a cheerleader.
I wasn’t a cheerleader.
I figured he would dump me sooner or later.
But that didn’t stop me from trying to be with him. He was just too perfect.
I fell for the stupid trap.
Why did I fall again?
Now that I look at him
I don’t feel the same way I ever did.
All I felt was regret.
All I feel is regret.
All I will ever feel is regret.

After the breakup, I broke away from him, obviously.
But I also broke away from my friends.
They didn’t know what I was doing, why I wouldn’t talk to them anymore.
I never explained fully. I owe them an explanation.
I went to the drugstore. I bought a bottle of Crystal Light, Doritos, and nail polish.
I came home. I drank the Crystal Light, ate the chips, and painted my nails jet black.
I went to school under the parent radar in some clothes I never would have worn before.
Black mini skirt, black oversized hoodie, black fishnet stockings, and black high-top Chucks.
I shunned my old friends.
There were the Goths and the skaters, not expecting me to join them at lunch.
There was an open seat. I snagged it.
After that, my nail polish and my shoes became my status symbol.
I was the girl who always had on black nail polish and Chucks.
I started getting popular again.
My reputation was flying up. I didn’t even need him.
I was more popular than he ever was. People were high-fiving me wherever I went.
Then one day, he came up to me.
He told me he broke up with her. He told me he missed me. I told him to beat it.
Why did I yell again?
Now that I think about it
I don’t feel the same way I ever did.
All I felt was regret.
All I feel is regret.
All I will ever feel is regret.