(no subject)

Dec 20, 2003 00:08


so someone I know wrote this... it doesn't matter who its about or who wrote it, I just thought it was something journal-worthy. enjoy.

You met her a year and a couple of months ago, and somehow she managed to seep into your subconscious like that "Suga how you get so fly" song. Just like you have no clue who the hell sings it, you don't know why she's there. But she is, whether you like it or not. You know her cell phone. You can dial her Aunt's house in Manhatten faster than you can peck-out 911. But she doesn't know.

Her screenname, that generic one with her full first name followed by a cute sub-name to make it sound more screename-ish, has its own category at the top of your buddy list. Not only do you know what a "Buddy Alert" is, you've rigged your computer to play "Fat Guy in a Little Coat" from "Tommy Boy" every time her screen name changes from gray to black. Then her away message comes down, and you have a decision to make. To IM or not to IM? These are the ridiculous games that you play on a daily basis. But she doesn't know.

She's it. All right, so maybe not "it" it. Not necessarily Ms. Right, but closer to Ms. Right-up-there-with-Anna-Kournikova-and-Lizzie-McGuire-on-your-list-of-people-you'd-give-anything-to-be-stranded-with-on-a-broken-down-elevator. But it's about more than that. When is it ever about more than that? Never. Not like a ugly frilly purple blue and yellow dress, overpriced ingagment rings, embarrassing immature friends, but closer to UMass sweatpants, two D.P. Dough Roni Zonies, a futon and a movie you have no interest in seeing more. But she doesn't know.

She's gorgeous, but gorgeous is an understatement. More like you're startled every time you see her because you notice something new in a "Where's Waldo" sort of way. More like you can't stop writing third grade run-on sentences because you can't remotely begin to describe something ... someone ... so inherently amazing. But you're a writer. You can describe anything. That's what you do: pictures to words, events to words, words to even better words....... But nothing seems right. More like you're afraid that if you stare at her for too long, you'll prove your parents right: that yes, your face will stick that way. But you wouldn't mind.

You wouldn't mind that the questioning, "Hello?" on the other end makes you want to smile and throw up at the same time. You wouldn't mind worrying about what to get her for her birthday and spending $300 when you only have $17.50 and a Starbucks gift-card to your name. You wouldn't mind that she left your TV on and the blaring infomercials wake you up at 4 a.m. ... because it gives you a chance to watch her sleep.  So she doesn't know.

Sure, she's pretty, but it's about more than that. You two connect. Anything you throw at her, she can throw right back. You figured out what's going on in that semi un-predictable head of hers in under five minutes, but something tells you her heart would take about five years.

You remember everything she's ever said to you, and when that freaks her out you blame it on your photographic memory (which is a lie, you have a 2.7 GPA...). You can't remember your teachers assistant's name, who you see everyday, and you can't remember that your Biology exam essay was due four days ago, yet you remember the middle name of the kid who "made a move on her" (even though he was about five). Maybe it's because you actually listen when she talks.  But she doesn't know.

But she has a boyfriend. The kid is a tool, and you are not. He has redeeming qualities, and you have about -38. He could kick your butt, and you've never been in a fight in your life. He treats her eeeh, good, but would treat her like the princess she believed herself to be on Halloween in 1993.

But she "loves" him. I mean come he he bought her a diamond necklace, thats a sign of "love" right? He wouldn't know what he had even if she slapped him across the face and dumped him, but somehow she still loves him. And somehow she still doesn't know.

Then, out of nowhere, she slaps him across the face and dumps him. She comes to you. You've been there before, so you seem like the smartest guy on earth. She cries, but your corny half-joke, half-compliment somehow gets a smile out of her that almost makes you feel ashamed that you're the only one around who gets to witness it. It looks like you might make her realize that all guys don't deserve to have rocks thrown at them.

But nothing changes. She doesn't know. You get that library elevator feeling in your stomach that she'll never know. You get that feeling that you'll be forced to write a email about her that makes "Sleepless in Seattle" look like "Girls Gone Wild".........or so I have been told. haha

You go to sleep. You wake up. She doesn't know. You're not in love. You're not obsessed. You blame it on the fact that you just need to get some, but still, it's about more than that. It would just be nice if once in your life, things worked out the way you wanted them to.

so I went to Laurens tonight with Lauren Lindsey Jenn and Alex. I had a lot of fun. it was nice to chill with Jenn for the first time in a while. all is well.

Speech competetion bright and early tomorrow... see you kids later.

<33 Paige

((I <3 Alex))
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