09.01.13

I know the likelihood of me getting asked to prom measures up to the likelihood of anyone actually using the white crayon in the Crayola box. I am going to be the girl that’s not even on any guy’s Plan B.

And that would be totally cool except I’m sad.

I am shaking my head at God and how he totally owes me one.

Prom is supposed to be like, the fairytale moment! I’ve been dreaming of princes and ballrooms and dancing and romance and magic and love… probably since I was conceived. How could you even let the dreamer girl who wanted to be a princess nurture five hundred layers of beautiful only to coat her with thick paint in the shade called “ugly”? (Trivia: That drives boys away.)

So maybe I still made believe I was a princess. But often enough, the mirror reflects the facade, when I’m expecting it to hold my heart. It gets to a point that you just have to let go.

I have theories. I used to despair and say that I was in the wrong storybook. What a life for such a girl. But it happens that romantics don’t have anyone to hold. (Thus the teddy bears, I suppose. Do you know how hard I hug those? I am pathetic.) My second theory, is maybe I’ve been looking from the wrong perspective. Maybe my life isn’t going to be a fairytale in the way I expect. How about a modernized version or something?

It’s becoming obvious that I don’t really have any ideas.

Except for one last.
Maybe there’s a plot twist?

Maybe there’s a plot twist.

sad prom music** (i)

the boy is wearing heels because he doesn’t live with his mother.  his right ankle pops and he breaks his nose on a puddle of evil.  a machine with a baseball in it shudders.  we throw cigarette butts at a girl jumping rope.  the boy stops what his eyes continue.


sad prom music (ii)

movie on with no one in it.  you scratch your son’s arm.  he is made of train sounds you make yourself.  the movie is terrible but is surely just as terrible far away.  you are not waiting to hear anything god hasn’t said better to doctors young and old.  you’re not drunk but your eyes are.  a nightlight in every outlet.

Prom night
Hoping for limelight
No fight towards the
Alcohol fueled lust
We just want what's just
To break off some rust
To end the night wrapped in her/his arms
Waking up to a cheesy love story
But nothing gory no glory
Just the generic songs
Playing through the generic throng
Of people looking for more
Maybe the unknown
Possibly the gold throne
But in the end
Teenagers aren't hard to get
So we danced young
Like we'd live forever
And at the end of the night
We made our own stories

Make-ups
Break-ups
Dates
Make up
Limos
Hair
Hair Spray
Tuxedo
Dancing
Crowns
Gowns
Kings
Queens
Prince
Princesses
­Fun
PARTAAAYYYY!!!!!!!