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I’m okay. I’m gonna kill the rosé in my fridge, watch some old eps of Brooklyn Nine-Nine and go to sleep.
    Marin [11:04pm] : Yesssssssss I love this plan!! Watch as much Rosa Diaz as possible and become a queer woman so you never have to date men again!!
    Bea [11:06pm] : Is that how queerness works?
    Marin [11:06pm] : Listen, was I born gay, or did Julia Stiles in 10 Things I Hate About You *make* me gay? It’s literally impossible to know.
    Marin [11:06pm] : Get some sleep, and don’t stay up until all hours drafting emails you’ll never send to you-know-who, okay?
    Bea [11:08pm] : I won’t. I promise.

UNSENT EMAIL FROM THE DRAFT FOLDER OF [email protected]
    FROM: Bea Schumacher < [email protected] >
    TO: [no recipient specified]
    SUBJECT: [no subject]
    Dear Ray,
    I don’t know what to say to you, but I feel like I have to say something.
    I still miss you. So much, not every day anymore, not every minute, not like it was, but when I remember for half a second how good it was, God, I’m just gone. Isn’t that ridiculous? That after all these months and years of you jerking me around, disappearing from my life and dropping back in when it suits you, of doing anything and everything I could think of to put you out of my mind, you still infest my flesh, my blood, like you’re some vital chain binding me together. And I fucking hate you for it, and I fucking hate myself for being party to this absurdity. Because, what, what, am I an idiot? Am I this pathetic that the second a smart, handsome man shows me attention, no matter how bad he is for me, no matter how deeply I know it, I fall for him anyway?
    I feel like you’re a pit I can’t climb out of. The clawing and craning skyward to try and find some shred of light is so exhausting, and it’s so much easier to let the ghost of your arms pull me down and down and down. If I let myself remember how you taste, my breath gets hard, my body heaves. If I let myself consider you inside me, I can’t function.
    I don’t know how I handed you this power, it makes me so insane that you have it. And I fucking know, I know it’s probably just me and my own shit, that you don’t have a damn thing to do with it. You’re just some vessel holding all my sadness, glowing with the nuclear energy of my loneliness. If I try to imagine you letting me go, I don’t feel free. I feel untethered, unbound. Like I’m nothing and nowhere.
    But if I imagine you holding me, I crumple. Ray, I’m running out of ways to exist.
    This sounds so crazy, I know I sound crazy. I’m not sending you this. I would never send you this. But God, Ray. Don’t you miss me? Not this mess I am now, but the me who was, until recently, your best friend?
    I don’t know where I am, Ray. I don’t know where we are.

TEXT MESSAGE TRANSCRIPT, OCTOBER 14:
BEA SCHUMACHER & MARIN MENDOZA
    Marin [4:15pm] : So tonight, 7:30? I’ll bring wine, you order takeout?
    Marin [4:16pm] : I’m kind of feeling that good bougie Thai place, the one with the crazy pad kee mao? But idk I could be talked into burgers. OOOH OR DONER
    Bea [4:22pm] :?????
    Marin [4:23pm] : IT’S MAIN SQUEEZE PREMIERE NIGHT BEA OR HAD YOU FORGOTTEN
    Bea [4:26pm] : I … had forgotten
    Marin [4:26pm] : Well great news we’re watching at your house so there’s no appropriate way for you to cancel.
    Bea [4:27pm] : I’m gonna order vegan
    Marin [4:28pm] : Ugh don’t be spiteful. See you soon!!

TWITTER THREAD FROM USER @OMBEA
    @OMBea Hey there, OMBeauties! Totally forgot tonight was @MainSqueezeABS premiere night, but now my bestie and I are on my couch with tacos & tequila and we’re ready to live-tweet every plot twist! Join us?
    @OMBea Is it just me, or do the people on this show keep getting more boring? Jayden is the whitest white man in history and every one of these girls is basically performance art of straight femininity.
    @OMBea Like what would happen if one of these women wore PANTS? Or had SHORT HAIR? Would the world end?
    @OMBea And