My Ramblings

What is that I hear? Time for another embarrassing/awkward experience? WHAT YOU’RE TIRED OF THEM?! Well, take a seat with the others cause I don’t give a damn. Today, I just wanted to talk about an accident that occurred. I was sitting with my friends, eating lunch. Just like any normal day, right? Well, for some reason I was sitting at the edge of the table while my bag was three people away from me. I pay no mind to it and just go on eating. But then it happens. Someone is going through the mountains of crap I have in it. They’re not just pushing things aside, oh no, they’re removing notebooks and my binder. I’m sitting there like “Could this get any worse?” when I see them open my binder and begin to assess each and every one of my papers. Now, I’m hoping I’m not the only one and you can relate, maybe I’m just some paranoid freak, but I will not let anyone look in my binder. I have so much crap that looks like a mess, but it is an organized mess. There isn’t a system to it, but I know where all the papers I need and want are. Just say the word and I’ll pull it out. But this person is taking out papers and putting them into piles and can not take it. I dash over and just yank my binder away. But in the process, I somehow knocked over a milk carton and it just spills all over the table. So I grab my bag so it doesn’t get wet and I try to move it away. But, of course, I knock over another milk carton. So my friends and I are trapped between the bench and the table and huge puddles of spilling milk on either side. Like the girls we are and not wanting even a drop of milk to touch anything we own, chaos ensued. People are screaming and shoving and I don’t even know what to do. I just keep thinking “You managed to trap you and your friends between two puddles of milk. Congrats.”

I do not know what is up with me lately. For some odd reason (if any), I have been reading creepypastas and scary stories lately, even though I constantly exclaim to people my extreme dislike of horror movies and how I’m repeatedly terrorized by paranoia after every story I read and the way I have never in my life posted anything creepy in the slightest (unless you count that random streak of baby pictures I posted which I totally did not mean to be creepy) and I think I should stop now because I’ve probably broken some grammar rule with this sentence so bye.

I would just like to say that I hope you get some kind of joy/knowledge/appreciation/unicorns/hobbits from the following story. Here we go. We all have school crushes. Sometimes we hide it. Sometimes we confess it. Can you see where I’m going with this? For those who have not caught on yet, I’ll just say it as bluntly as possible: I wrote a love note to my crush. If you read my last story, this is not the same crush. But moving on, we had this club called the Lego Club. Geeky, right? Well, we would make robots and program them to run obstacle courses and enter them in competitions, yadayadayada. I worked with my crush. Things were pretty much fine, if not uncomfortable due to my anti-sociality. But out of nowhere, for exactly no reason at all, I decide to write him a love note. Now, this is probably the absolute worse love note in history. At the time I wanted to write it, I had no paper with me. So I opened the small pocket on my backpack and pulled out the rattiest, most worn out piece of paper in the world. Worse than that, I kept all kinds of trash and crap that just screamed diabolical there. So this piece of paper was breaking through levels and levels of nasty. And I chose to write a love note on it. *face palm* You also need to know that I had terrible hand-writing, by far the worst out of everyone’s in our class. It didn’t help that I was the only one who wrote in hand-writing, so everybody just knew that it was my writing. As I’m writing my note, I realize that he will most definitely be able to tell it’s me. But instead of stopping, I go right on. Here are the basic contents of the note:

Hi. I’ve had a crush on you for 3 years. You can probably tell who it is through the hand-writing. 

And that’s about it. I folded up this piece of garbage and wrote “To:____ From: Anonymous”. Do you want to know what my plan was? I didn’t have one. What I did was walk into club and drop the note right next to the trash can. It wasn’t until later did I think he might not be the first to see it. I immediately run to the trash like someone screamed free ice-cream. But, of course, the note wasn’t there. I’m seriously on the verge of a mental breakdown when my close friend (let’s call her Erica for her own safety) comes to me with it. I tell her to drop it right next to ____ and she agrees. After school, I start to wonder if this was a good idea after all. Then it hits me: DEAR LORD. YOU IDIOT. WHAT HAVE YOU DONE. I’m around twenty feet away from the club when I turn and see ____ holding the note surrounded by a group of guys. I become the Flash and bolt out of there like nobody’s business. My flabs of arms suddenly become bulging muscle and I shove this giant yellow metal box that’s twice my height, scooch behind it, and push it back in front of me. I peer behind it, ultimate creeper status, and spy on the group of guys. This all happened in a matter of seconds and they’re still reading the note. Finally safe, I brake into a sob that would make Christian from Moulin Rouge proud. He never spoke to me for the rest of the year. ☺ _ ☺