Is He A Blue Jay?

Is Sport For Me?

Why would anyone go to an after school club? Seriously? You could be at home watching Ru Paul's Drag Race (actually that's probably not what everyone else in my school watches). Let me correct that: you could be watching a bunch of celebrities exaggerate their lives.

After school clubs are like extra lessons, an extra hour spent in the hell which they decided to call school.

Aparently colleges don't have the same view on extra-curricula activities. According to them, wasting your time running around a field or playing a game of chess is important for your future and applying for jobs.

So that's where I was. In a sweaty gym, attempting a game of dodge ball. When is dodging a ball going to help me in fashion? Well....I suppose there are some pretty feisty models out there.....but that is not the point!

My life shouldn't involve sports. Urgh I can barely say the word. Sport makes you out of breathe, it gives you a headache, makes you drink too much water and you end up covered in a layer of salty liquid. How can anyone find pleasure in that?

Well.....aparently the majority of my school.

They were all there in their shorts and vest tops (or skirts if they were girls - stupid gender division) pure muscle. I couldn't help but stare.

But I'm not them...

I like art, photography, fashion! Nothing brings me more pleasure than capturing beauty, taking the perfect picture, designing the perfect outfit to wear.

Plus I don't want to break one of my newly-painted nails for the sake of catching a ball, do I?

My body is not built for sport. I am a delicate human. The type of body that people think will break if you so much as touch it. My worst nightmare is to be in a rough situation. I want everything calm, slow, controlled.

You get the picture, I just hate sport.

"You have to be more involved if you want to go to college." My dad's words were the reason for this. Me being here, awaiting to get attacked by a ball.

I had protested but it wasn't enough, what my dad says usually goes. He's not the type of person you argue with. No point really; you'll never win.

I suppose there is a silver lining....

I mentioned jocks before....well one stands out.

Jay Johnson. I'll just...let that sink in.

You could say he's my high school crush but that sounds too.....petty. I am a mess around him. He's the only one who makes me blush when he speaks to me (which is rarely by the way) and the only one I really notice in the cliché school I go to.

He's a stereotype -like everyone else- with the perfectly brown quiffed hair with slithers of blonde running through it. He has that million dollar smile that makes everyone fall at their feet (even some of the "straight" guys). He's also very.....very muscly, to the point where I'm surprised he still fits into his shirts.

But I only watch from a distance. He's always surrounded by people....girls *insert eye roll*. Basically he's Mr. Popular and there's no point in dream- thinking about him.

He sat across the gym from me, tieing his show laces. I was NOT staring...just looking. Then he looked up. It was that cliché, awkward moment when you lock eyes with your crush and you have to look away quickly before you do something stupid, but he still saw me.

Now he actually knows I exist. That's a plus isn't it?