Young (not so dumb) Love

A post for my high school friend.
​I love you Mary, we still think of you.

I had a beautiful friend in high school. It was sophomore year. Her aesthetic could be described as VSCO- a photo editing app turned style of colorful scrunchies, tube tops, and wavy hair.

I sat with her at lunch-our lunch table. I didn't quite understand her stories—I hadn't yet lived those experiences of boys, dating, and those kinds of musings.

​One story, in particular, stuck with me. My friend was dating a boy I had gone to elementary school with for a grade (or maybe two). Who knows, we were only kids back then, and there was a reason they broke up.

Well, one day at lunch, there was a stir at our table. Maybe someone had their phone in the middle showing THE VIDEO.  Regardless, there was a particular video somewhere that caught everyone's attention.

When the two had broken up, the boy took her scrunchies.

​Pause- for context, in my school days, you gave your scrunchies to the boy you liked, and he would put them on his wrist in return, pridefully toting around a token from his new crush. I wonder if they still do this...I'll have to text my sister.

Ok, resuming ​the story. He had these scrunchies and, in a moment of jadedness, passion, whatever you want to call it- he fried them. Yes, he dipped them in bubbly, boiling oil, taking them out, and tossing them onto a plate. With fork + knife, he and friend cut the fried scrunchies into pieces, tossed their heads back, and ate them- ATE them! And according to the girls, there was video proof.

My beautiful friend passed away the next year. A terrible accident. There was an empty seat for her at our high school graduation. My beautiful friend was front row with her mom and sister. They rang a bell for her.

I guess this would be the last question anyone would ask, but sitting on my bed five years later reminiscing and sitting with my own daily throws + woes of heartbreak, I ask myself, does he think of my beautiful friend and then remember eating her scrunchies?
                           
                           The intense, passionate moments that make us make a fool of ourselves.
​                                                               They matter so little in the end.