Disclaimer: I do not own Camp Rock. Didja really think I did?

I have no idea where this was supposed to go. And in the end, it kind of went nowhere anyway. It's short and kind of rambly. :P I just kind of wrote everything on the thought that, "Wow, I should get back to CR writing." And so I grabbed my laptop and just started writing and gradually everything unraveled. This is really kind of pointless and plot-less and the ending is terrible because I have no idea how to write a wedding invite. Anyway, I hope it's not so horrible that you'll never read anything I write again. :(


It's been two and a half years.

That's really not that long if you think about it. You can see someone every day for two and a half years, and you would not notice any difference from New Year's Day to New Year's Eve, you won't know how long their hair grew during August, or how much more they studied for that midterm in February. You wouldn't really care about how one year, they'd been heartbroken over someone, but now they're flirting it up with the cuties at the beach. You don't pay attention to the things, the people who are always there. It's a fact—things that are steady, people that are stable, the very foundations that you rely on, will always be taken for granted until they are lost.

But for me, it's like it's been an eternity since I'd seen him.

We were never really close anyway; he'd been the boyfriend, I was the best friend. It's kind of a forced thing, an instinct—you have to be friends with your best friend's boyfriend, or at least tolerate him. You have to be nice, maybe playful, maybe joking. But under no circumstances, at any given time, it is totally, absolutely, without even saying anything, allowed to develop feelings for the boy.

Which, at times, really kind of sucked.

Especially, if said boyfriend had been your friend first. I mean, isn't there another rule in the best friend code, where it's like, "First come, first serve," or something like that? If not, it should definitely be there. In fact, it should be in the rulebook of life—everything's a race. If you think that you've got something in the bag, well, you've got another thing coming, because you never know when someone's gonna beat you to it.

Well, nobody likes a cheat, do they? Weren't there practically whole witch trials upon the line-cutters in Kindergarten? It's always been like that; when wrongness is done to a person, sides are taken. Sometimes, you are lucky—you're popular, everyone takes your side and immediately shuns the rule-breaker. And sometimes… you're just plain pathetic, and this is definitely worst-case-scenario, which, unfortunately, happens probably 80% of the time. This is when everyone takes the offenders side, and, you are pelted with donuts.

Okay, maybe not donuts. But something like that.

It happens everywhere; the situations just change as you get older. In fifth grade, it was the teasers, the bullies. Eighth grade? Maturity escalates; we bitch-slap the cheating boyfriends, and their cheat-assisting assholes. Junior year? The people who are either goody-too-shoes, or just a lot smarter than the rest of us, who don't actually try drugs and booze. Life? Everything from convenience-store-robbers to mass-scale-murderers.

The point is, life sucks. Everything sucks. At some point in your life, every stable wall, every support system you've ever had, simply crashes down and leaves you to fall in the rubble. How do I know this? Exhibit A. The paper I'm holding in my hand that just arrived in the mailbox.

Miss Caitlyn Gellar,
Mr. Shane Gray and Miss Mitchie Torres
would like to formally invite you to the ceremonial joining of these
two individuals,
who will become Mr. and Mrs. Shane Joseph Gray, officially,
on Tuesday, June 13th, 2015, beginning at 2:30 PM.
RSVP for the address, please!
We can't wait to see you there,
Mitchie and Shane