One year ago, on another June the Thirteenth, my then-friend got her phone taken away for sexting people. Since I was the last person who texted her, asking if she was still awake for the roleplay that we were doing (which was quite stupid in retrospect), her mother used her phone to yell at me, saying that I should “get a more worthwhile hobby” even though I wasn’t the one sexting people. I waited at least five weeks after that text for her to get her phone back, foolishly believing that July 7th would earn her back since that was the date she’d quoted in a Kik message she’d snuck to me: “I can’t talk until the 7th of July; don’t reply and don’t worry.” She’d been reading all my messages up until then, my frantic messages asking her to please respond, to please break the embargo… but it all ended up being for nothing, as she wouldn’t contact me again until SWAP night the week before Girl Scout Camp was that year.
Why am I telling you this? I don’t know… release, I suppose. Or maybe to show that something bad happens Evey Friday the Thirteenth.


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