There are a lot of things wrong with my life.
You people are sick, you know that? Reading about my plights and enjoying it. Really, you should rethink your morals.
Since you're all desperate to know, here's my biggest trouble right now: I'm in love with my best friend's best friend, and she doesn't love me back.
In my fantasy world, Max is my girlfriend, Iggy can see again, his sister Nudge speaks at an understandable pace, and we pass our time riding British unicorns, grazing off of cotton candy.
In my reality, Max hates me, Iggy's blind, Nudge could give Karmin a run for her money, and no unicorns exist. Not even British ones. And I haven't had cotton candy in years.
Excuse me for a moment while I go to a corner (not an emo corner, mind you) and cry for a while at my miserable life.
I think the only upside is that I've moved from Virginia (unspeakably awful) back to Colorado, the land of Max and Iggy. But alas, my upside must be the causes for all the downsides.
Why me, life? Why me?
If I could get someone to understand just how much I love Max, their head would explode. They wouldn't be able to handle all this emotion (heaven forbid emotion!) that's inside of me. I don't even think I'm handling it well. I mean, I'm having mental conversations with myself.
Here's a little backstory:
Max and I met the day before the first day of senior year because we had to go sign some papers to assist our mutual friend Iggy with his school work, since's he's blind and all.
For some reason I couldn't understand, she was giving me all these resentful looks and glaring at Iggy. Uselessly, I might add. While Iggy is freakishly amazing at sensing everything going on about him, he's strangely unaware of glares.
And while she was glaring the happiness out of both of us, I was watching her, thinking about how she was the hottest girl that ever glared at me. Because, you know, only the slutty ones glare at me when I reject them and pound their plastic make-up caked faces into the ground.
Heh. Good times. But back to the depressing topic at hand.
To this very day, she hates me. Today, I was standing against the wall next to my Calculus class, waiting for Iggy to come, who would be accompanied by Max, glancing around. I couldn't help noticing all the bright, perky flyers advertising the upcoming dance. Prom.
A little shiver slithered down my spine. Prom. I was so... excited.
Or anxious. I didn't really know anymore. In the beginning I was excited. Way back three months ago, when Max agreed to go to Prom with me. But now that I have an idea of just how much Max hates me, I'm not really looking forward to it as much. I mean sure, it's cool I'm going out with the girl of my dreams.
But it sort of sucks when she hate you.
For all of you out there who have read Romeo and Juliet, let me clarify something: unrequited love sucks. I don't know why Shakespeare had to write a whole play on it. I think all the girls in the world read it and then decided to pull a Shakespeare on all us guys. Seriously, Will? Not cool, man. I thought bros were suppose to have each other's backs.
A few minutes later, Max and Iggy rounded the corner, their arms linked. Max had a scowl on her face and I could see her intentionally keeping her eyes off of the walls. She caught sight of me, stiffened, and let go of Iggy's arm. His arms searched for me until I put a hand on his shoulder.
"Thanks," I said, nodding to her, fighting hard not to capture her in my arms and declare my love.
Control your hormones, Fang. Control your hormones. You can't let her see how desperate you are.
She nodded jerkily, looking extremely unhappy, then practically ran away from me.
Reveal all inner turmoil and emotions? Check.
"Let's go to class," I told Iggy, leading him into the classroom.
At the end of the period, while the rest of my class was doing homework, I sat at my desk and brooded over my sad, sad situation. Poor me, not even able to speak properly to the girl he loves, much less hug her. Poor me, not being loved. Poor-
"Dude, I need your help with this problem," Iggy whispered, jabbing my elbow with the eraser of his pencil, thus interrupting my pity session.
I quickly helped him do his problem, imagining how Max looked when she helped him. Her long, dark blonde hair hanging over her shoulder, her dark chocolate eyes lit up as she bickered with Iggy over how to do a problem...
The bell rang, and I shot up out of my seat. After a quick stop to my locker, I took the long way to the parking lot, the path that just happened to go by Max's locker.
I could almost feel her locker pulling at me, and I mentally smacked my forehead. Great, now objects that belong to Max are interesting to me. Next thing you know I'm going to be watching Twilight with Nudge and wearing the color pink.
I got to my car and drove home, finishing up my pity session in the car. Why couldn't Max love me?
I knew that, of course. Iggy had told me she had hots for Dylan, the star football player. What do I, a boy who talks to himself and is attracted to lockers, have against him?
Prom's a whole lot more complicated than I thought.
A/N Welcome to Fang's Blog!
Yeah, so as you can tell, Max won the bet. Don't ask me what bet! I really don't know.
But leave some comments below on what you think of my narrative. Pretty good, right? Yeah. I know it.