[Day 267] Good notes

Does everyone on here remember Cody? The boy I dated for over a year back when I was a sophomore? The boy who, up until we started dating, I considered my best male friend? Alright, keep that in mind. It’s important for the context of this post.

Ever since we broke up, there has been, well, tension. We’ve never gotten into a yelling match or anything, but resorting to nasty comments under our breath is just as bad. And unfortunately, this invisible conflict was raised above the absolute threshold of our peers this year, mostly due to me.

See, I’m a loud person. I can’t help it; I really can’t. When I get excited or worked up about something, my voice gets louder naturally. There’s nothing I can do to control it. And sometimes, because of this unfortunate character trait, people hear things that they oughtn’t be hearing. Like everyone in my AP lit class hearing my frustrated, angry, and often downright mean things I would throw at Cody.

Understand that I never meant to be a jerk. I really didn’t. But because of our weird and fractured history, I can’t really help myself from getting frustrated with my former boyfriend and best friend. And bottling up my anger with everyone else was bound to come out somewhere.

Today, however, during my last AP lit presentation ever, I decided to do something about the way I’ve been treating Cody. After the half-hearted post-presentation clapping had subsided, I cleared my throat.

“And just really quick…” I stammered. (Quick note: apparently, no one else notices when my body gets overexcited and it’s hard for me to talk, which happened sometimes during debate, but trust me, my voice was shaking.) “Most of you have probably noticed that this year I’ve been kind of a jerk to someone in this class, and that someone is… Cody.”

Cody looked up, surprised. “What? Did someone say my-”

Plowing ahead, not pausing for fear of bursting into embarrassed tears, “Cody- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be as mean as I was, and I didn’t want this year to end on a bad note. So, yeah.” Turning around, I set to closing out of my presentation as the entire class broke into unanimous “aww”s and amused chuckles.

And I felt better after wards, even though recounting the experience out loud causes me to choke up, because I knew it was the right thing to do. No one deserves to be publicly insulted; I should know that better than anyone. I was turning into someone that I despised, someone who I’d seen reflected in the eyes of every bully I’ve ever encountered.

It’s not easy to admit that you’re wrong, and it’s even harder to apologize to the person you’ve wronged, especially in a public setting. My fingers shake a little as I tap out this story onto the emotionless screen, because I’m still surprised at myself for doing it. I’m someone who is incredibly stubborn and dislikes being wrong or told off- about anything.

Maybe I would have been in Gryfindor after all.