I’ve started watching Skins- season 3, mind you- and I feel like such a freak of a teenager.
I don’t get drunk, I don’t do drugs, I don’t crash parties, I don’t hang out with people that are completely messed up (case in point, James Cook; what a repulsively intriguing human being), I don’t go round having sex, I’m not skinny or indie or whatever Effy is; despite all my wishing and hoping, but then I got to thinking- why would I want to be like them? Do I want a carefree, alcohol-ridden adolescence, or a time that I’ll merely be able to look back on and nod, smiling slightly at the memories but never being able to tell crazy stories? I’m a thirty year old (at the very least) in a 16 year old’s body. How completely and utterly sad is that? Wait, I don’t want to hear your answer. Let’s assume the elements of rhetoric are highly prevalent here. Man, that makes no sense. It sounded kind of good in my head, and I wrote it, but I’ve decided that I won’t ever back type anything I write anymore, except typos, so this is me in my unedited form. The hills are alive with the sound of music…ah ah ah ahhhh.
Tonight, I went to this music festival thing that was run at a church; at this church that a girl at my school belongs to, and I went with my friend, her sister, a French exchange student (whose host sister ahem SHAZZA was too busy being all intelligent at math tutoring) and my friend’s friend. I think his name was Ian. It sounded like Ian. It was kind of flat. The entire atmosphere of the place just reeked of churchy youth dullness. You kind of had to know people there to enjoy it, I think. So my friend and I plus her posse hung around, trying to get into the music of the bands because I really did want to be able to enjoy myself. I mean, the artistes upon those dry ice infested stages believed in what they were doing, or so I like to think, and it’d be nice to be able to encourage them by having some faith in them too.
I think people are dying outside my house again. Oh well, not important.
Yeah, so, the main point of my story is that I feel like…I’m worth something again? I don’t know, I mean, I was just able to talk to Ian so casually. I can never do that with any guys, like ever. I completely freeze up and they think I’m a snobbish weirdo, but tonight I chatted with him and I ENJOYED myself. Me. I had fun in a conversation that was purely for the sake of conversation; for breathing in the summery night air and for just feeling young.
I sound like such a sad case.
I haven’t felt that way in a long time, and maybe it was just because I was a little high on Coke and he was quite simply a lovely guy. Don’t get the wrong idea here, because I know you will (haha <3), there is no romantic attachment, or anything of that kind. It was nice and I had fun, even though we decided to go to the Glen as the night’s energy started to drop, where we wandered around and bought 4 pairs of earrings for $10 (Sarah got these pretty tear drop crystal ones, Alizei- hmm, I don’t know how to spell her name, maaf ya- bought round black ones that’ll really stand out against her fair hair, I don’t remember what Julia got, and I got a pair of classic golden rose earrings, which I’m quite delighted with). So, what a bargain!
Happiness.
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