Yeah.

She sits at the back of the classroom, using blank worksheets as journal entries and doodle paper. She is broken. But that's the least of her worries. She has too many things to do and think about to be heartbroken. But it's okay. She's alive; that's her upside to things. She has State Show Choir Finals this weekend. She wished he lived in the state; she knew his show choir would make it to state. Then she could sit and talk with him again. Probably hug and hold hands; maybe sneak in a kiss or two. She knew them being affectionate was wrong - and she openly admitted to not caring. She just wanted to be with him. Afterall, he had a girlfriend and she was in love with him. He was confident and she was awkward. He was beautiful and she was a fair seven. She wasn't beautiful. He'd disagree with her, but she was okay with being average. He liked that about her. She was so modest to the point where her awkward behavior became gorgeous and unique. It must be hard being perfect, she'd say to him. He'd smirk at her through his webcam and shake his head. He'd cried in front of her once. She took that as a sign of trust. She cried all the time. He knew it. He even admitted to wanting the ability to wipe her tears away with strong but tender hands. But no. Things can't be perfect and you can't expect them to be. It's a plain truth worth accepting. Things aren't worth spending your time dawdling on about. Dreams are for kids.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(She's a big child. She's allowed to dream.)