I wish everything meant what I thought it meant. Maybe then all the things that romantic comedies have taught me would come to use, other than during trivia games. All the signals that I think are saying stop mean go and I keep going straight in the "left turn only" lane. I wish I could say what I mean. And even though I tell you that everything is ok, I really want to yell at you for ruining every chance I have. I would cry a lot more, and laugh at bad grammar. Some days I wouldn't participate in unintelligent conversation, and sometimes I wouldn't speak at all. But my silence would be viewed as rudeness, and my lack of words stupidity. I wish I had the courage for ultimatums. I wish risks paid off and all heartbreaks are just misunderstandings, to be sorted out through astronomical means. I wish there was a soundtrack that warned me of murderers under my bed and when he's about to kiss me.
But instead I'm always wrong, and my instincts mean absolutely nothing. I don't understand boys, and I don't understand girls. I don't even understand why I choose to stay home on a Saturday night. I think it's because I need a break. I need a break from guessing what you're thinking and resisting the urge to punch people.
But then I see Jesse Schow at a pizza place in Salt Lake and he spins me around. Then I spend time with my family, who let me be exactly who I am even if it involves dancing to "Big and Chunky" and seeing who can make the ugliest face (it's me, I can). And then I get this hopeful feeling because High School politics actually mean nothing and I am the only one who, with God by my side, decides my fate.
So sorry, but screw it all.
-M
Hey maybe someday we can make a movie :)
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