March 22
The word ecstasy is defined as intense joy or delight. I don't know about INTENSE, but I am definitely feeling joy or delight. Miranda Sanchez: inventor of semi-ecstasy.
I stared at the blank ceiling again, as I did many times before. And yet, somehow, it was different. The blankness was no longer a white canvas, waiting for me to brush Gordo's face with gentle peaches and creams. It was filled with its blankness, and it no longer needed me to change it into what I wanted. It was a lonely sort of fullness, but it was full. Beggars can't be choosers.
My bed sheets were being washed, so it was just me and the mattress that lazy afternoon. I was yet again embraced with procrastination. Of what, I wasn't quite sure, but a nagging feeling in the back of my brain made it very difficult for me to think of nothing.
A knock came to my door.
"Yes?," I mumbled.
"Can I come in?," Gordo stuck his head in.
"Sure," I didn't bother moving. He laid next to me, bringing the heated feeling back in my body.
"What's going on?," He asked, using my shoulder as a rest for his chin.
"Nothing," I said truthfully. "At all."
"Riveting," He smiled.
"What did you guys talk about?," I asked, not really wanting to know.
"Life..her...me..you," He said quietly, not looking me in the eye.
"What about us?," I questioned, vaguely interested now.
"Our friendships," He replied. "Our personal problems. Why none of us have any communication skills at all....why you own a plastic turtle money bank..."
"Turtles," I informed him, "Are cool." We silently dwelled on this thought. "So...why don't we have any communication skills?"
"Because we are all egotistical pitiful assholes who can't think of anything but ourselves," He paused. "And we're scared."
"Thought so," I said quietly.
"Miranda," He said after a moment. "I love you. I know that's not really enough to get through this stuff right now, but I do. And so does Lizzie. But we BOTH want you happy, and want to support you in everything you do-
"Gordo. Shut up."
"Okay then." We sat there, letting the words echo in the air. Weren't we supposed to kiss or something? No, that was the movies. This was real. I was real.
The moment was deeper than a thousand passionate embraces and a hundred heated kisses. It was filled with love itself, filled forever. And for once, I didn't hide. I was not secluded and obscured; I was not lonely; I was not alone. I was filled, not with emptiness, but with love. That never happened to me before.
So maybe, just for that moment, I could believe. I could let down the iron wall of tears and state my truth proudly. I LOVE, AND I AM LOVED.
~@~
High school is, in a weak definition, one big breeding ground. Couples flock around, seeing who is the happiest and who is the deepest and who looks best together. It's a giant competition to see who can keep a relationship SEEM healthy and wonderful. The faker it is, the better it is.
There are the high school sweethearts, that stay together all through the hellish torture. The ones who might as well get married because they are constantly together. The ones who will live happily ever after...after a messy divorce, that is.
Then, there are the flings. Ah, yes, the flings. Those consist of two day relationships of "oh, I love you!", followed by two months of "oh, that ass!". Those are the ones who cause the most grief and destruction, and the most entertainment.
After that, of course, are the ones who can't stop breaking up and getting back together. This is a combination of the sweethearts and the flings, sometimes crossing over into either territory. Chances are, this ends in divorce at later times as well.
There are normal people as well in this dating chain. Well, as normal as high school gets. They have a few good healthy relationships, break it off as friends, and let school work drive them insane instead of their love life. Did I mention normal people are rare to find?
Finally, there are the misfits. You know, the ones who can't get dates and the ones who wreck dates. The old maids and the bald bachelors who will probably get married someday, but you can't picture it. There future love life is pretty much a big question.
And why, you ask, am I telling you this? Because as I stared across the grounds, I saw it all. The social food chain. The love race. The most idiotic thing ever.
I watched them eat each other's faces off, more for show than real affection. The sad thing was, the person attached to the tongue wagging in their mouth was a stranger.
I mindlessly gazed Parker and Larry. It was odd how interesting it was to watch them. They weren't like the other couples, sprawling idiotically on the ground making out. They were laughing and talking and the only contact was holding hands. I loved couples like that. They were rare; a unique relationship most people don't stumble onto until, like, five seconds before death. Only misunderstanding could break people like that, and usually they have such a deep connection it never happens. I wondered how anyone got so lucky.....until that fateful mini golf game.
My eyes wandered across oversexed bodies towards Lizzie. She seemed so alone, sitting there with Kate and Claire. She was smiling, and eventually she waved at me, but I knew she couldn't survive in this world of pairings. Boy/girl parings, at least.
People naturally don't accept what they aren't used to. It's like an alarm ringing in there head. People set down boundaries of what's theirs and what's not, and an intruder is not what they want.
I wanted to accept Lizzie's feelings. But her feelings were directed wrongly at me.
"What are you thinking about?," Gordo questioned, sitting on the same picnic bench as me.
"You," I replied.
"Really now," He said, suddenly less interested. "What about me?"
"Your....hair," I picked a random subject.
"You were thinking what you're going to do now," He smirked knowingly. "Now that you have two best friends in love with you, and you love one of them."
"How do you know I love you?," I asked teasingly. As if it wasn't obvious.
"I didn't say that..." He was silenced when I grabbed his hand. There was something oddly awkward in this act, as if I had performed some sexual act upon you. Holding his hand! My goodness, Miranda, you dirty girl!
Maybe it was all I've been through in the past weeks. Maybe it was Gordo. Maybe it was Lizzie. Maybe it was my dad. Maybe it was all of the above. But somewhere, somehow, something changed. I can no longer hide behind my fake smiles and slang terms. I am Miranda. I am not hidden. I love. And I am loved.
~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~
ATTENTION: All author notes will be added in a separate chapter at the end of the story, which may be next chapter. I'm REALLY joyful that I have my whole Shoe Sisterhood, and if anyone has some suggestions on my next fic, PLEASE do tell. Any characters you think I should write about, any subjects..knock yourselves out, kids!
I would also like to take this time to welcome CALEY into the Shoe Sisterhood!!! Caley, woman, you made it!!! I, funky pink high top, now pronounce you, and forever more, GROOVY MAGNETA FLIP FLOP. I'm VERY happy. Review, people! Last chance to join our Shoe Sisterhood! ::sob:: I'm so sad now. I have to get my pink scented tissues....
The word ecstasy is defined as intense joy or delight. I don't know about INTENSE, but I am definitely feeling joy or delight. Miranda Sanchez: inventor of semi-ecstasy.
I stared at the blank ceiling again, as I did many times before. And yet, somehow, it was different. The blankness was no longer a white canvas, waiting for me to brush Gordo's face with gentle peaches and creams. It was filled with its blankness, and it no longer needed me to change it into what I wanted. It was a lonely sort of fullness, but it was full. Beggars can't be choosers.
My bed sheets were being washed, so it was just me and the mattress that lazy afternoon. I was yet again embraced with procrastination. Of what, I wasn't quite sure, but a nagging feeling in the back of my brain made it very difficult for me to think of nothing.
A knock came to my door.
"Yes?," I mumbled.
"Can I come in?," Gordo stuck his head in.
"Sure," I didn't bother moving. He laid next to me, bringing the heated feeling back in my body.
"What's going on?," He asked, using my shoulder as a rest for his chin.
"Nothing," I said truthfully. "At all."
"Riveting," He smiled.
"What did you guys talk about?," I asked, not really wanting to know.
"Life..her...me..you," He said quietly, not looking me in the eye.
"What about us?," I questioned, vaguely interested now.
"Our friendships," He replied. "Our personal problems. Why none of us have any communication skills at all....why you own a plastic turtle money bank..."
"Turtles," I informed him, "Are cool." We silently dwelled on this thought. "So...why don't we have any communication skills?"
"Because we are all egotistical pitiful assholes who can't think of anything but ourselves," He paused. "And we're scared."
"Thought so," I said quietly.
"Miranda," He said after a moment. "I love you. I know that's not really enough to get through this stuff right now, but I do. And so does Lizzie. But we BOTH want you happy, and want to support you in everything you do-
"Gordo. Shut up."
"Okay then." We sat there, letting the words echo in the air. Weren't we supposed to kiss or something? No, that was the movies. This was real. I was real.
The moment was deeper than a thousand passionate embraces and a hundred heated kisses. It was filled with love itself, filled forever. And for once, I didn't hide. I was not secluded and obscured; I was not lonely; I was not alone. I was filled, not with emptiness, but with love. That never happened to me before.
So maybe, just for that moment, I could believe. I could let down the iron wall of tears and state my truth proudly. I LOVE, AND I AM LOVED.
~@~
High school is, in a weak definition, one big breeding ground. Couples flock around, seeing who is the happiest and who is the deepest and who looks best together. It's a giant competition to see who can keep a relationship SEEM healthy and wonderful. The faker it is, the better it is.
There are the high school sweethearts, that stay together all through the hellish torture. The ones who might as well get married because they are constantly together. The ones who will live happily ever after...after a messy divorce, that is.
Then, there are the flings. Ah, yes, the flings. Those consist of two day relationships of "oh, I love you!", followed by two months of "oh, that ass!". Those are the ones who cause the most grief and destruction, and the most entertainment.
After that, of course, are the ones who can't stop breaking up and getting back together. This is a combination of the sweethearts and the flings, sometimes crossing over into either territory. Chances are, this ends in divorce at later times as well.
There are normal people as well in this dating chain. Well, as normal as high school gets. They have a few good healthy relationships, break it off as friends, and let school work drive them insane instead of their love life. Did I mention normal people are rare to find?
Finally, there are the misfits. You know, the ones who can't get dates and the ones who wreck dates. The old maids and the bald bachelors who will probably get married someday, but you can't picture it. There future love life is pretty much a big question.
And why, you ask, am I telling you this? Because as I stared across the grounds, I saw it all. The social food chain. The love race. The most idiotic thing ever.
I watched them eat each other's faces off, more for show than real affection. The sad thing was, the person attached to the tongue wagging in their mouth was a stranger.
I mindlessly gazed Parker and Larry. It was odd how interesting it was to watch them. They weren't like the other couples, sprawling idiotically on the ground making out. They were laughing and talking and the only contact was holding hands. I loved couples like that. They were rare; a unique relationship most people don't stumble onto until, like, five seconds before death. Only misunderstanding could break people like that, and usually they have such a deep connection it never happens. I wondered how anyone got so lucky.....until that fateful mini golf game.
My eyes wandered across oversexed bodies towards Lizzie. She seemed so alone, sitting there with Kate and Claire. She was smiling, and eventually she waved at me, but I knew she couldn't survive in this world of pairings. Boy/girl parings, at least.
People naturally don't accept what they aren't used to. It's like an alarm ringing in there head. People set down boundaries of what's theirs and what's not, and an intruder is not what they want.
I wanted to accept Lizzie's feelings. But her feelings were directed wrongly at me.
"What are you thinking about?," Gordo questioned, sitting on the same picnic bench as me.
"You," I replied.
"Really now," He said, suddenly less interested. "What about me?"
"Your....hair," I picked a random subject.
"You were thinking what you're going to do now," He smirked knowingly. "Now that you have two best friends in love with you, and you love one of them."
"How do you know I love you?," I asked teasingly. As if it wasn't obvious.
"I didn't say that..." He was silenced when I grabbed his hand. There was something oddly awkward in this act, as if I had performed some sexual act upon you. Holding his hand! My goodness, Miranda, you dirty girl!
Maybe it was all I've been through in the past weeks. Maybe it was Gordo. Maybe it was Lizzie. Maybe it was my dad. Maybe it was all of the above. But somewhere, somehow, something changed. I can no longer hide behind my fake smiles and slang terms. I am Miranda. I am not hidden. I love. And I am loved.
~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~
ATTENTION: All author notes will be added in a separate chapter at the end of the story, which may be next chapter. I'm REALLY joyful that I have my whole Shoe Sisterhood, and if anyone has some suggestions on my next fic, PLEASE do tell. Any characters you think I should write about, any subjects..knock yourselves out, kids!
I would also like to take this time to welcome CALEY into the Shoe Sisterhood!!! Caley, woman, you made it!!! I, funky pink high top, now pronounce you, and forever more, GROOVY MAGNETA FLIP FLOP. I'm VERY happy. Review, people! Last chance to join our Shoe Sisterhood! ::sob:: I'm so sad now. I have to get my pink scented tissues....