The Greater Scheme of Things
I was planning on writing here that I'm sitting in my basement, on this charming winter evening, sipping hot chocolate and thinking about how much I love life. But when I got to the last word, I remembered how I felt when I left school this afternoon, and I realized that it wasn't entirely the truth. I was going to get back on track. I was going to fufill all my obligations this week, and quit "fucking up" and blah blah blah, but then there was that play. And then I couldn't really get into anyone's conversations as we waited for the bell to ring, and then I blew off the NHS rehearsal, even though I knew Ms. Canle was mad at me, because I don't even care if I get kicked out of NHS, I always felt like a hypocrite there anyway. So then I walked past the guys as they continued to tease me about the chocolate incident, and I called you, but I couldn't come over because your parents were home, so I went home and you said you were going to take a shower and then come over, and so I just changed into pajama pants and crawled into bed, and when you got there I didn't even get up, you just walked right in and upstairs because I left the door open for you. You saw my room for the first time, my stupid, girly, horrendeously messy, childish, embarassing lavender bedroom that hasn't been changed one bit since I was eight years old, that most of my friends know me for years before they ever get a glimpse at, and I pointed out to you all the most potentially amusing aspects of it, and you took a book about ninjas from my shelf and left it in my underwear drawer, which, like all my other drawers, was wide open when you came in, but I didn't care, because I don't need to hide anything from you. We went to get pizza because it was almost time for my parents to come home, but first you stopped home to get money ($2.50 in quarters, which you didn't end up using anyway), and I waited in your driveway and you came out with this little stuffed animal, a monkey with a heart on its mouth, holding a little box of chocolates, and you told me that this was my cheesy, generic valentine's gift, that I was also getting a personal one, and that you were giving this to me now so that you wouldn't forget later. I told you that it was the first cheesy generic valentine's gift I'd ever gotten from a boy, and that because of that it meant everything to me, even though it was cheesy and generic, and also because it was from you. We ate the chocolates together, and I fed you the coconut one because neither of us like coconut, and I clung to the monkey all night, and you laughed at me with that stupid big smile of yours. You couldn't go to class because of the weather, and so we needed somewhere to go, and so ultimately you gave in and brought me home to meet your mother, even though you were dreading all the annoying questions you knew she was going to ask you after I left, and we watched Scrubs and the first half of X-Men on your bed in your basement with your cats, and I kept smiling at you really big because I was the first girl you ever took home to meet your family, or even told them about at all. And so now, I'm still blowing off my "obligations," and I'm still no closer to completing all of this week's work, but I'm sitting in my basement, on this charming winter evening (now night, I suppose), sipping hot chocolate (actually, I finished it back towards the beginning of writing this entry), and thinking about how much I love you. And in the greater scheme of things, I think, that's all that really matters.