Love is Like Stepping on a Lego

Nat King Cole and Public School Bathrooms

I lock myself hastily in the second floor bathroom of my school, taking small measured breadths as the full force of the smell assaults my nostrils. I nearly trigger a gag reflex. Feeling lightheaded and disgusted, I hastily press the recording button for a voice memo. The lyrics of "L-O-V-E" fill the room with minor accompaniment from my choking and tears of desperation. Don't ever use the second floor bathroom. But I'm already here, and my purpose too important to retreat now. I wince as I listen to my strained vocals struggle to achieve a similar lilt to Nat King Cole's deep timbre. Yet as I continue to sing, the words reaching my hears become an endless chant of those three words, "I love you, I love you, I love you," and I am then satisfied. I quickly press send, then lean back against the stall door, legs shaky from either the poisonous gas that is emitting from the stall next door, or from my unwilling tears as I listen to a small, unmistakably English, rendition of Hallelujah with my phone pressed to my ear.