Imagine you’re making out with a really cute guy. He’s got you in his bed, that Summer Walker song is booming on the speaker, the lights are off, and the mood is just right. All of a sudden, he asks you…
During the first few months of college I had a burning urge to reach high school popularity. That doesn’t exactly make sense– I know– because how can I be high school popular at a university, right? Well, the goal was simple: befriend people who I thought would have been high school popular, just to get a taste of what my life could have been. There was one step I had to take to social climb.
I miss him so so much. I can’t even begin to describe how much I miss him. It’s the fucking vignettes, I’m telling you. I’ve always wanted to have a movie perfect summer. I’ve wanted it to be rose colored and warm so that, in my memories, I’d always be smiling or laughing. They’d be the kind of memories that played to a road-trip pop song.
(TRIGGER WARNING: SEXUAL VIOLENCE)
I was reading over my diary– a relic I’ve had since the 6th grade– and as a college freshman, I thought it would be interesting to read through what happened to me in late November of every year since 10th grade. I would go back earlier, but I didn’t write for November at all from 6th-9th, so we’re stuck with this.
I’m going to keep it exactly how it’s written in my journal– unexplained typos, poor punctuation, and all. If anything is bolded, it’s my present day Eloise commentary. I’ll probably use it for clarification and contextualization.
So, I’ve been trying to channel my frustration on the world productively. Here it is, world: a blog.
Background to contextualize my life:
I’m going to try to keep this short because this is the boring part.
My full name is Eloise Kneadly and I’m a 17-year-old freshman (update: I’m 18 now) at a small liberal arts college in the rural Midwest. Perhaps it’s not quite as rural as I describe it, but I’m from the heart of Manhattan in NYC, so my urban nationalism has me half expecting people to pull up to campus in tractors.
My senior year kind of sucked, but that’s for another blog post. To summarize it in 10 words:
changing schools, bad boyfriends, stalking, blackmail, fighting, too much drama
Considering all of that, when I got to college, forgive me for expecting high-school to be over. I thought I was past all of that needless adolescent bickering and on to bigger and better things.
To sort of reinvent the Eloise we’ve all come to know and love, and separate myself into a new, god-like, perfect female, I came up with the name Luna, and decided I would go by that for my new Middle-American life. Luna was to be everything Lola wasn’t (Lola is the nickname my best friends and family call me by): kind, patient, hard-working, a good student, popular. The kind of girl everyone, including me, wants to be. It would be time consuming, but to achieve the sort of infectious popularity I’d seen other girls so effortlessly emit would scratch off a checkbox on my teen-movie fantasy bucket list.
I thought it would be easier to explain if I pretended that Luna was my middle name, but it’s just something I heard, liked, and then claimed. There was this movie that had come out earlier this year with a main character named Luna, and they described her in the trailer as such: LUNA FEELS EVERYTHING.
I severely identified with Luna’s emotional wreckage. It was a way I could still keep some of Lola in my new identity, and I quickly decided to take up this new demeanor.
So this is where I’m going to complain about the first-world hardships Eloise, Lola, and Luna all have to face. Maybe now the world won’t feel so lonely?