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Dreamer

Hello, I'm Sandy; a quirky fourteen-year-old girl who lives in Canada. I aspire to be a writer. I play travel volleyball. Deathcab for Cutie, Paramore and the Twilight series are my obsessions.
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At the Moment...

Drinking: Nothing.
Eating: Nothing.
Reading: Second Helpings - Megan McCafferty
Thoughts: Due to my nonexistance to the opposite sex (and partially my parents for not letting me go in the first place), I am sitting at home while other girls are pampering themselves to be sure they are tempting enough to the guys at the first school dance of the year. Ha ha. What a night to remember.

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Opened on: September 14, 2008 Hit counter displayed in footer.

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Fuck My Life.

Posted on 14 Nov 2008 by Sandy. Flied under Personal, School ♥ 17 Comments

I panicked this week - the junior (grade eleven) guy I liked had only talked to me once. I couldn't stop wondering about him, why he ignored me after that. I pass him a thousand times a day in the hallway - he never looks at me. But then today he decided to acknowledge my existence again. I'm pretty sure he won't forget today for a very long, long, long time, no matter how great it would be.

I'm walking around the school hallways at lunch time with three of my friends. We're just laughing and joking around when I see him. He looks gorgeous which is no surprise, but my eyes are glued to him like always. He finally sees me, and asks me about my brother. I tell him my brother is sick so he's at home. The guy I like decides to start joking around with me. "Is he dead? Is he dead?"

At this point I'm completely absorbed into our five-sentence-conversation. He's so gorgeous and funny. People's faces blur beside me - I don't notice them. There's a garbage can oddly positioned in the middle of the hallway that I'm faintly aware of. Whatever. My friends kept pacing forward, so I turn backwards to still be able to talk to the guy I like. There's only me and him; nothing else is worth noticing.

There's a garbage can in the middle of the hallway.

Laughing at something he said, I feel myself trip over something and start falling backwards, hands reaching to grab me. And then I notice the garbage can.

THERE'S A GARBAGE CAN IN THE MIDDLE OF THE HALLWAY.
I AM FALLING.
I AM IN THE MIDDLE OF THE HALLWAY, FALLING.
I AM FALLING IN THE GARBAGE CAN WHICH IS SITUATED IN THE MIDDLE OF THE HALLWAY.

The hands reaching for me grab onto my arms as my ass starts plummeting. As I speak I squeal a bit, surprised by the sudden rush of air. And the gorgeous boy who was just speaking to me cannot help but burst out laughing. At me.

So I've decided that it's time to write Cupid a complaint letter; maybe e-mail his manager. Here we go:
Dear Cupid,
You are a horrid little creature who should not have a license to possess a fucking bow and arrow. Please stop torturing me. One day you will pay for everything you've put me through for this boy. Go play in traffic.
Forever your most hateful client,
Sandy

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