and wishing.

It started with a love letter, the destiny of an almost-summers day, a boy and a girl too different at a time when differences made all the world of change, high school's end, a promise a girl made to herself, and a simple white paper.  Blank, and then, no longer.

She then flew into her life, making up, it later seemed, for years of lack of living.  She had been stony silent, stone that smiled sometimes and felt and whispered things at night, things she desperately craved for others to hear, for him to hear, but alas, the stone was all they saw, was all he saw, and she grew and she flew out of it.  Three wishes on a night where--were the stars clear, were the clouds white, did the moon shine through and was it full and I don't know--a basketball in her hands, she bounced it angrily onto the floor and demanded from God that he help her that he change her and make her beautiful and make her bright and bigger, bigger than the acne face girl with duct tape covering her mouth that she saw--she knew she did-when she looked in the mirror
and then there was change and then there was life and then there was beauty written into the lines of her face. 

A love note, a basketball-night wish, a few nightmares and dreams later and she had fallen in love again and this time... this time there was no six year dormant love note delivered in disguised envelope by shaking hand.  Russian voice and Russian face and she kept this in her head, even after it ended in tears and bodies slipping over and out of one another and art class.  And repeat.  Russian voice and Russian face and love from afar, it seemed like a quadrilateral.  Point one:  LF (Love from Afar).  Point two:  Russian.  Point three:  LF.  Point four: Russian.  Connect the dots and what do you get!  That's right, all together class!

Stony student, mouth closed, doesn't want to cooperate.
I wish I were that student.

Like you, you who sits in class, organized like a facebook page, organized by desires and friends and consecutive posts, right along with Wenselous Ratking Smith Who Looks Like Orlando Bloom, and below Mimi Is Attending Chabad's Purim Party.  You were never more than that, though.  Just a sitting boy in a room with other students, noticed by your rough hair and your big Russian lips.  A week and Mimi is in love.  She's repeating old cycles, old habits, improving on the things that were already good, taking away from those hateful things, making them worse.  A word vomit mouth is better than other types of vomit but they'll kick me out for that. Word vomit doesn't get you kicked out of school but it does pull the plug on desire and quaintness and too bad I'm too human for my own good...

...and you'll never realize what I used to be but alas, as a song I read puts it vaguely like this:  I won't change for you because I'm good and I deserve more than someone who doesn't like this Me.  I wish I could remember the eloquence in those lyrical words but it wouldn't produce this blunt emotion that 6 30 in the morning does to a girl that can't sleep.  Defense mechanism of rationalization or not, it makes me feel better.  This me I've worked so hard to be. 

Anyways, confidence?
Dictionary: confidence; 1. (noun) She who is beautiful and she who is bright and bigger, bigger than an acne face girl. 2. (verb) The act of removing duct tape from an acne-scared girl's mouth. 

3. That shit wish.
Where has it gotten me.  A pretty face and many guys later, a sore head and sore belly, and myself, realizing there is something nice about a girl playing basketball in the night, and wishing. 

bounce.