John is picking me up to go to a party.
I’ve shambled around the house aimlessly for the last twenty minutes.
I brushed my teeth, twice. Reapplied chap stick and lip gloss.
Braided a single braid hidden in the midst of my hair.
I feel sick.
Maybe I’ll be sick.
I wonder if he’ll just text me and say he’s here, or come to the door?
He could be here any minute.
I’ll definitely be sick.
I’ve never even been to a party before.
I don’t even know what to do.
He still doesn’t know that I like him. Well, I mean, I haven’t told him.
I have this funny vision of him dropping me back at my house at the end of the night, and me saying
“John, hey, there’s something you probably already know but I just figured I would tell you, and you don’t have to worry about it or anything, but I kinda have a crush on you. Okay, see ya later!”
and then hopping out of the car.
That’s the plan.
I’m going to a party on a Saturday night. With a guy I secretly have a crush on.
I don’t understand my life anymore.