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((Oh sure, blame Alisyn.))
****. What is it about today?
Can you really blame me? I mean, Christ, here I was fresh out of a breakup—obviously with the scent of single emanating from my pores—and already I’d been approached twice. Now, I could dwell on how I was not at all desirable and didn’t have it on my to-do list for the next week, but I think you’ve got it. Maybe they were just looking for a friend. ****, I didn’t need friends.
And **** me for asking his name. As if I cared. Cocky bastard. When was my next Music Theory class? I had it. I would make it a priority to sit close to the door so I could make a quick exit. Unless he was a good runner, I was pretty sure I had it all worked out. Hell, I used to run track. I did it because Dad was worried I’d get fat. **** that. Maybe if I got fat I wouldn’t have to sit close to the door to outrun a boy. I’d sit close to the door so I didn’t have to walk as far. Track and the local athletic club’s swim team. What a little athlete. Want to know a secret? I picked those two because they require less coordination. Stick me on a baseball field and I’m ****ed. The only thing I was ever mildly coordinated in was guitar. But then, everyone plays guitar. So I started playing bass. And then that became the sexy thing to do, so you know what I’m saving up for now? Tuba. I’ll rock that shit.
Despite its lack of novelty, the guitar was always cathartic. I had an acoustic up in my room, and I knew exactly what I would do. I would play until I got sleepy, and then I would take a nap. By then, it would be time for lunch and my next class.
Ever feel like shit waking up from a nap? What a waste of a nap. Ending a nap early is as bad as ending sex early. The whole thing so far has been so good, and you’re drooling on your pillow you’re loving it so much. And then it ends abruptly and awkwardly, and your left with a sticky mess (in the nap’s case, I mean the drool).
I woke up with a headache right behind my eyes. I put my pants back on, slipped a white wife beater over my skimpy red spaghetti straps and went to lunch. As much as I enjoy eating out (ha), I don’t do it much. Dormitory food isn’t too bad, and sometimes they serve Gatorade. ****ing headache.
****ing Music Theory. I love that class, but what goddamn timing. As planned, I sat near the door and kept my head down. I made a kickass drawing of a bear popping out of an apple tree.
Class dismissed. See ya, Vic.
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