Dangers of Daydreaming

Chapter 4

Ugh this chapter sucks.

~

Final exams, projects that are due tomorrow morning, and very important events – like a job interview, or a special date – are things that normal people stress about on the night before.

            But a first impression? Not really. Most people don’t even think about that one, it just comes out naturally, like what they say. But then again, I’m not really normal, now, am I? So I guess it seems fitting that I worry about my first impression towards other people.

            Well, not really to other people. Just towards Gus, who’s going to be my new classmate in about sixteen or seventeen more hours. That seems like a long time, I know. But maybe it won’t appear as if it’s a long time if I just sleep right now.

            There’s another problem: sleep doesn’t want to claim me just yet. How can this even happen? I don’t remember drinking an ounce of caffeine. I swear, I just had a hot chocolate this morning. And yes, I’m fully aware that even chocolate has caffeine and all.

            But the amount of it in chocolate is just too tiny compared to a coffee’s, and even coffees don’t make me remotely energetic. So I’m pretty sure that the hot chocolate isn’t the reason why I’m so exuberant right now.

            Each time I lay down my bed, I can’t help remembering the earlier incident at the soccer field, with him falling down just to make a goal. How can I possibly forget that? It’s unmanageable to even try. But, anyway, each time I do recall every beautiful detail, I get a little jittery inside.

            Not in a bad way, really. It’s like there’s something tickling me from inside, something that resembles rapid fluttering movements, and I find that I love feeling that way. I love feeling jittery and those butterflies in my stomach.

            Why is this even happening to me? I’ve read all about this, and this only happens to those in the novels, those people whose lives are perfect because it’s not real, it’s nothing but make-believe.

            But this is the real world, where everything is fallible and horrible and cynical. And I’m a real person, in which I’m living an extremely imperfect life. So why is this happening to me?

            Can those cheesy writers be actually speaking of the truth?

            All those loved-up thoughts aside, I’m actually still worrying about my first impression towards Gus tomorrow after lunch at fifth period – my first Trigonometry class. This isn’t supposed to be that big of a problem, right?

            Ugh.

            My life totally sucks. But, hey, you can’t blame me for wanting to make him think that I’m not so much of a dork and that I can be one of those girls that he hangs out with. However, the thing is, I really am a dork and I can’t be like those girls whose skin are perfectly tanned and clear, whose eyes are a gorgeous shade of blue or green and doesn’t require glasses, and who are all really pretty that even if they don’t smile and just show their poker faces they’d still be pretty.

            For the love of God, why am I not blessed with such prettiness? I seem to be asking a lot of why’s lately, but that’s beside the point. All I’m saying is that what have I ever done that angered the man up there to make me look this way?

            He didn’t even spare me a teeny tiny percent of attractiveness. I guess that’s it for me, then. I’m either going to die an old, ugly, lonely potato, or I’ll die with seventy-two cats named after cereal boxes or whatever