Results of people-watching at a show in a church. Study 1. Pink Hair.
I'm looking down at these ridiculous black boots with a distinct yearning to be invisible, and impassable, and flippant. I don't know who I am anymore, and surrounding myself with friends of friends of friends is further mutilating my worth. Who the fuck am I trying to be anymore?
It takes a moment to muster up the courage to catch my reflection in one of the judgmental, cross-shaped mirrors hanging from CD-laden walls the minister's been told are hip and happening with the kids. My black-framed glasses are an immediate offset to the remainder of my corporeal form, and the penultimate traitor to my true nature. My t-shirt is pink. My skirt is blue. My hair is yellow like bees are and stars, or at least that's what the box said. My glasses further augment the roundness of my face, and I'm uglier than I've ever been.
Just as I'm studying the cliche of my cartilage piercing, I can see almond-shaped hickory eyes staring over my shoulder. Noticed.
Blah Blah Blah.
"Fuck this picnic table. It's like... everything here is a socialization device, you know?"
I can only nod.
"Who the fuck are these douchebags to push their beliefs our metal, you know?"
A quick, "Yeah." squeaks through these thin lips like a hollow reminder of my lameness.
"You really know what's up, _______. You smoke weed?"
His question catches me by surprise, and I giggle like a mongoloid. A puzzled look washes over his face before I correct my mistake. "Sorry. No. I mean, I have and everything, but I didn't get high. I guess it doesn't work for me." That fucking giggle again. Shit.
"Yeah well, that's cool I guess. My best friend's pretty much about the edge and stuff, but that's just him. I mean, not that--"
He's talking and I don't care. I pray fruitlessly that my countenance carries interest. I know I look bored, and I'm over-correcting, and swerving off the freeway of socially acceptable conversation, and oh... I think I'm talking.
"Do you have a phone number?"
He quirks an eyebrow. For a second, I'm sure he's gonna get up and leave. "Like... a land-line home-phone deal? I don't know if you can get those still, but that seems like what you'd want. I feel like that's what makes sense here, but I'm--"
"Shut up." He does. "Your cell's fine. I just want to lose my virginity."
It takes a moment to muster up the courage to catch my reflection in one of the judgmental, cross-shaped mirrors hanging from CD-laden walls the minister's been told are hip and happening with the kids. My black-framed glasses are an immediate offset to the remainder of my corporeal form, and the penultimate traitor to my true nature. My t-shirt is pink. My skirt is blue. My hair is yellow like bees are and stars, or at least that's what the box said. My glasses further augment the roundness of my face, and I'm uglier than I've ever been.
Just as I'm studying the cliche of my cartilage piercing, I can see almond-shaped hickory eyes staring over my shoulder. Noticed.
Blah Blah Blah.
"Fuck this picnic table. It's like... everything here is a socialization device, you know?"
I can only nod.
"Who the fuck are these douchebags to push their beliefs our metal, you know?"
A quick, "Yeah." squeaks through these thin lips like a hollow reminder of my lameness.
"You really know what's up, _______. You smoke weed?"
His question catches me by surprise, and I giggle like a mongoloid. A puzzled look washes over his face before I correct my mistake. "Sorry. No. I mean, I have and everything, but I didn't get high. I guess it doesn't work for me." That fucking giggle again. Shit.
"Yeah well, that's cool I guess. My best friend's pretty much about the edge and stuff, but that's just him. I mean, not that--"
He's talking and I don't care. I pray fruitlessly that my countenance carries interest. I know I look bored, and I'm over-correcting, and swerving off the freeway of socially acceptable conversation, and oh... I think I'm talking.
"Do you have a phone number?"
He quirks an eyebrow. For a second, I'm sure he's gonna get up and leave. "Like... a land-line home-phone deal? I don't know if you can get those still, but that seems like what you'd want. I feel like that's what makes sense here, but I'm--"
"Shut up." He does. "Your cell's fine. I just want to lose my virginity."