Once upon a time (two years ago) there was a guy and there was a girl and they fell in and out of love (probably) over the course of a terribly wonderful and wonderfully terrible year.

The relationship as summarized in a series of texts:

“I wouldn’t care so much if he didn’t stare so much,” she laments to her best friend, via text.

“What does it mean if you and someone both look at the clock up on the wall behind you at the same time and somehow accidentally make eye contact on the way up and down?” That’s the funny thing about accidents. You never know you’re having one until you’re having one.

“Congrats. You made a move:) Like you moved seats.” Congratulations from your best friend are certainly in order when you do something brave.

“If he hates you, I’ll punch him, which will make things more awkward but also more clear.” Ahhhh, loyal friends are the best.

“Do you think he hates me? Maybe I should get the upper hand by punching him sooner rather than later?”

“I don’t know. Ask him?”

“Punch first, ask questions later?”

“You need to take a pic. Surreptitiously and send it. Then you can be a certified stalker.” Curious friends, wise advice.

“I should just text him and tell him I have a problem.”

“Don’t do that. Tell him he has problems.” Annoyed friends, wiser advice.

“We can try not to be that rude. As in, we’ll make a less offensive plan, and execute it offensively.” Scheming is now officially in progress.

The entire story of the J-boy (s) is an essay that is in progress.

#love #relationships #friends #story #essay

I write. I write. I write.

I write because it’s what I know and what I want to know.

I write because I want others to read what I’ve written.

I want my words to go somewhere, be something, change someone.

I write because I want to be someone.

But I am someone.

So I write.

Confession time. You know what I hate with a burning passion? Social media.

You know what I use on a daily (hourly) basis? Social media. Excuse me while I attach a “I AM A HYPOCRITE” sticker to my laptop. Or, maybe I’ll post the message to my Snapchat story.

Social media is a drug. I click on the Instagram app on my phone before I realize what I’ve done; I close the app but instead of putting down my cellular device because truly I have no further need for it at the present time, my finger habitually taps on the Snapchat icon.

Social media has no real use in my life, but I use it anyway, and for what use, I have no idea. If that sounds like a contradiction, it’s only the beginning. My life is a compilation of contradictions. I’m confident and insecure, laughing and depressed, jumping up and down with excitement and exhausted to the point of collapse (perhaps the jumping is at least partially responsible). I’m driving down a highway, speeding way over the speed limit and totally lost. The street signs are posts on social media; I see them, I read them, and sometimes I remember them, but I pass them without slowing down. They aren’t even useful for navigational purposes because I’m using Apple Maps. The signs watch me and I watch them. I keep driving.