It's Not That I Hate Dances. I Just Hate That You Like Them.

At my high school, during the autumn of each year, they have the senior and junior cotillions. I don't even know what a "cotillion" means, but basically it's a dance. Two dances, really, until this year. They decided to combine the two cotillions into some crackpot scheme called The Harvest Ball. It's an excuse to save money that the people on the board of education will probably spend on something just as worthless. 

That's not what's bothering me. It shouldn't be bothering me, because I'm a sophomore. But he's a junior. 

He is a fucking junior. 

They made an announcement during my lunch period that the tickets were on sale, but since they didn't have enough to distribute to everyone in both classes, they should be purchased ASAP, if you want to go. 

He wants to go.

How did I guess.

I knew as soon as I peeked over my friend's shoulder and noticed his empty seat across the commons, he was buying his ticket. I shouldn't care, but when the pictures from his sophomore ring dance surfaced on Facebook, I collapsed and cried for an hour. Late at night, on the couch. While he was either asleep, or awake and not thinking about me because I bet you, he never does.

I mean, I want him to be happy. Seeing him smile is like one of those moments where you hear someone laughing, and you have no idea what they're laughing about, but it's contagious, and before you know it, you're laughing too. Or maybe when you walk out of the house in the morning, and think to yourself that it's too early to be awake until you look up. And the sun is just coming above the trees, peeking out between sheets of clouds, and the sunrise is painted pink and gold. 

There's a lot of analogies I could use.

My point is, even if he was mine, I would never want to restrict him. Whenever he's unhappy, or MIA, or sick, I'm more upset than he is. 

I'm just saying that it breaks my heart to not be able to be a part of his happiness. To have him walk by and not look down at me, or to have him wave and know that the moment is probably the longest I'll be in his mind all day. 

Lately I've been thinking about how I'm going to cope when he graduates, and goes off to college. I will still be stuck in high school. While he goes off, gets a degree, a job, and most likely a wife.

I'm thinking too far ahead. 

I wonder if I will still love him them.

I plan to tell him that when he graduates. Just so he knows. Just so I can get it out of my system. I'll explode if it doesn't.

All I can do is prepare myself for when pictures of this shindig come up on Facebook. Box of tissues, check. Lack of self esteem, double check. 

I could always ignore Facebook, but back to the analogies, I'm like that dumb fly that persistently hits itself against the light because they don't realize how much it hurts them. All they can focus on is the beauty in front of them, and how badly they want to be a part of it.

Well, maybe flies don't think that deep into things.