I took four paracetamols before going to work. I don't know why, I just thought they might help me get through it. They didn't, but a boy who I really shouldn't work with because he makes me double up with laughter and almost drop lots of expensive glasses, did. By the end of my shift I felt fantastic - I was tired and my feet ached but the fact that I hadn't disolved into tears or shouted at any customers - the fact that I was okay and normal - was such an incredible relief. So I did go out afterwards, to dance and drink and laugh. Perhaps the alcohol rebalanced my hormones (can that happen?). I feel great. But. Oh come on, you knew there had to be a but. I do believe that I could spend the rest of life with Boy, marry him and have children and fight over which football team they'll support, and force them to go to church like we had to and have our parents over for lunch every Sunday. And maybe when I'm 30 I'll want all that, and Boy will be everything and all that I want. But right now I'm 17 and I want excitment. I want the thrill of little looks, of turning away smiles, of subtle body contact - did he mean to touch my arm? - I want the butterflies when you realise that he's interested, the skip of your heart when your phone beeps and its him. Also, I want the boy I shouldn't work with, but please don't think this is just about him.
< - >
* the marks of memories forgotten
* wasting emotions, over again
* intentions, and such
* nothing unusual, nothing's changed - just a little older, that's all (damien rice : amie)
* now I understand! It doesn't make sense because it isn't supposed to
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