got lightning in a bottle || n.h au

thirty nine (epilogue)

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Fuck fuckity fuck, I'm going to implode. 

Or spontaneously combust. Maybe both? Honestly, though, I feel as though I'm actually going to puke fuck. Oh my soul, who gave my lungs the permission to plummet to the bottom of my stomach?

How to do people do this? I'm genuinely going to trip down that runway looking thing. I can already see it. Heh, it'd be funny as all heck though. Admit.

The correct word for it is an aisle, I know, but runway sounds better. What? It's the closest I'm getting to being a model given my current career. Let me be, okay? Okay.

I'm probably not making any sense huh? I mean that's nothing new but it's a bit intense even for me.

Let me tell y'all, today is the day I'm going to spend in utter disbelief and being a quarter to combusting in pure jittery anxiousness, but the good kind of anxious. Ya feel?

Because, I'm getting married? To my crush and object of all my affections since the beginning of the time I realised that boys weren't, in nice terms, giant sacks of doodoo. How is this real life? Am I still dreaming? Is that what this is? Because if it is I'll fight someone. Me having the strength of a baby penguin aside, I'll fight them. 

The day that dearest James proposed was one of the craziest days of my life. Well that along with the day I actually began talking to him because hi, awkward human being who cannot people, hello.

He was -is- my first love, and somehow, fate made it so he'd be my last. This kind of sorcery doesn't happen everyday. And I'm immenewly grateful.

Now the day he proposed was bloody insane. And not in the sense that there were fireworks and lights all around us, but it was the genuineness and simplicity of the way in which he did it. It was a giant ocassion, but the events that took place during that simple Niall&Zahraa moment was what made it so incredible.

~~

Grading first grade finger paintings has literally become part of my ideal Saturday morning. Add in a delicious breakfast and some good music playing in the background and I was fully content. When did this become my life?

I was getting ready to start the second pile of books when my phone rang.

I swear to the heavens, if it's the local pizzeria calling to ask why I haven't popped in in two weeks, I'm going to flip. Because in my world that's called sabotage. I'm trying to be a healthy human and do healthy human things but the universe won't let me live.

I peeked at my phone and sighed in relief. It's a James. You see this, I can get with.

"Hiii, love?" Niall's voice broke the silence a few seconds after I accepted the call.

"Why does that sound like a question Neil? I mean how many "loves" do you have, boy? Were you expecting a call from Harold? Because you know a certain Tommo will fuck you up." I couldn't help but smirk as I said such.

This, ladies and gentleman, is why ninety-five percent of my conversations occur in real life or over text. More the latter to be honest. I must have slept in when they were issuing filters up in the heavens or some such.