Three Teenage Girls Walk Into A Coffee Shop. . .

I only have 21 minutes left of free wi-fi here at Starbucks. It seems that most of my posts are written from the beaten-up chair tucked into the far back corner on the right. The braiding is coming off the right arm, peeking out white cord beneath blue velvet. The back cushion is smashed out of shape, pressed down by countless people here for business meetings, meetings with friends, or as an escape from meetings.

The baristas are all loud, telling stories about co-workers not on this shift. The one other guy in here has the courtesy to walk outside to talk on his cell. I've been here since about 4.30. I did my Biology homework. I applied for a job. I drank a grande soy vanilla latte. I'm trying to figure out the best way to get home, while avoiding the traffic that loves this part of town. I would start going to the other Starbucks, but it is in a newer building. The coffee smell hasn't had the chance to permeate the walls there.

The coffee smell is home.

I get some of my best ideas sitting here, smelling the smell, listening to whatever mix cd was approved by all. Of course, even my best ideas aren't worth that much. Someday I'll get better at writing them all down. I suppose that's why I write here. At least I'm writing something, getting into the habit of it all.

Someday, my best ideas will be good ideas, and something will come of them other than outlines and plot sketches.

Goodbye, Yellow Brick Road

Well, all that worrying was for naught. It seems the decision was made for me, by way of job termination.

Of course, it helps to write it all down. Once I'd written about the tingles and warm fuzzies and dropping of heart bottoms, it was so much easier to shove away. I know that I say I want to live my life by the precept Love as thou wilt but it is so much easier to ignore it. After all, he is loving as he would, and I shouldn't stand in the way of that.

Love isn't like the fairytales. It doesn't happen overnight. I know that. I fought long and hard for my last relationship. Where did it end? In a ditch somewhere, unknown by others, much like Hitler. This is horrible. I'm making Hitler references.

My life is not the Holocaust. My life could be a lot worse. I could be dead. But sometimes? I think that would all be easier. Because then I wouldn't have to deal with the uncertainty. I'd just be dead.

Moral of the story, I don't want to fight fruitlessly for something that is never going to happen. And I'm glad that this will be less time I am forced to be around him. Because let's face it: I love the pseudo-snuggling on the couch and the wrestling over food. But I hate the reminders of girlfriends and chicks he thinks are hot.

Falsehoods and Flashbulbs

This is the most horrible thing that has happened to my heart in over two years. I can't be falling in love with him. I can't be putting myself through this yet again. I know what happens when a person falls in love: trembling moments of utter joy, decimated by harsh reality.

He won't love me back. He might not even realize I love him. We will float side by side for a predetermined amount of time and then we will never speak again.

That's how the world works. No one stays. No one means forever when they say it. It's all just words and motions and pretty lies on pretty lips in pretty moments. None of it can last for any longer than the instant it happens.

My stomach flutters. The bottom of my heart drops out. I think about him at the most inconvenient times. If it were just a crush, it'd pass. It would have when he went back to her yet again. I am logical and reasonable to a fault. I can talk my way out of any decision, any feeling, any rationale. I compartmentalize better than any one I know. I can exist as a perfect entity, empty of any emotion or bias.

But I can't make myself ignore his phone calls, texts, facebook chats. I can't turn down his offers to hang out. We sit too close together on the couch and steal each other's food. He teaches me football. I teach him parents of high school girls. When he's drunk beyond all belief, and I know he won't remember it in the morning, I let him curl up in my lap and sleep. I warm my hands on the back of his neck, and rest my head on his shoulder. I pretend.

I can't believe I'm letting myself do this. I would that I were a stronger person, to ignore the raging hormones and fluttering and fireworks when we hug. I should be able to stop this.

I can't fall in love with him.