art school, chucks and perfect flirting.

"That feels good," I say as I feel his fingers squeezing my neck and attempt to hold back a flinch.
It does not feel good at all.
My mind attempted to come out of confusion, to understand if what I'm feeling is relaxing me...or causing me pain---
It's causing me pain.
This guy can't give massages worth a shit. But I'll give him an A for effort.
We sit in the lounge which has two drink machines, a candy machine, a hot chocolate/coffee machine, a plasma screen TV with Wii. Our group sits in one of the middle tables, being the loud and perverted art students that we are. I never felt so comfortable with strangers before.
But...they don't really feel like strangers. I love this about art school.Two guys come sit beside me in a strategy that I've learned quickly about..
TICKLE ATTACK.
They do this to the giggly "noobs" and it's fantastic.
There's a lot of laughter, a lot of perverted jokes...a lot of teenage antics which make me laugh. And I mean really laugh. Not fake-painful-laugh that I've had to endure for most of high school pretending something was funny so I wasn't outcast.
No. Not anymore. I'm tired of feeling the need to pretend. I'm pretty much in college, dammit. And the people here actually seem really, really interested in me. And it's not pity interest because I'm so shy...I'm not really all that shy anymore.
It's not clingy-I-need-a-girlfriend-and-you're-the-only-one-nice-to-me-so-imma-stalk-you interest either. It's genuine interest. Hopefully.
Or maybe cause I'm still kinda new.
Kinda.
Point is: people seem much more accepting. Much more nice. Much more like able than others. And I love it.
-Bzzzzzzz-My phone kept vibrating during class. One text was from Jesi. The other from Bonnie.
I don't know what to do with Bonnie. She's been my friend for six years now and I have absolutely no reason to dislike her...Heck, she was one of the reasons for why I started to leave my shell during high school.
But... her text...her asking me to go get drunk at a party and try weed for the first time is not something I find enjoyable. It's not something I want to do. It's something I've told her I want to do...SOME DAY. As a freaking life experience and not something I want to do just to get it over and done with. I. Don't. Want. That.
And frankly, I just don't want to hang with her anymore.
It's not that I think I'm better than her all of sudden because I have new friends---oh hells to the nah. It's just...we have nothing in common, to be honest.
I always feel like I'm pretending somehow when we hang. Like I'm pretending to be someone else.
And I don't want to anymore. I want to be myself, my own kid. Not a leech in need of care.
She's part of my past. Part of something that I don't want to think about anymore. Part of something that I just want to tie to a balloon someday and let it fly.I don't want to dis her. I just want to move on.