Elvis and Annabelle

I was frustrated.
He was friends with a LOT of pretty girls...
And who was I to talk? I wasn't that type of girl. I was part hippie, part intellect. Part grunge, part bohemian chic. I was my own person, with my own style. And I definitely didn't fit into the cookie cutter, perfect hair, heavy make-up, perfect mix of skinny and curves that these girls played.
I just didn't.
But if there was anything I had learned from this year and a half it was that I should stop forcing myself on people who didn't want me. I tried too hard. And so even if they had any inkling of wanting me in the first place, I soundly drove that out of them.
So I would wait. And if nothing happened, if he didn't want to talk to me, he didn't care, I would forget.
I would hold to my resolve.
The summer would be here again.
Maybe it was the result of laying in bed watching Lifetime Movie Network, but I felt a little blossom of hope somehow popping up behind my ear.
There was so much to love as I curled under the covers. Music played on a piano somewhere in my head, and the grass squished under my feet. The greens and blues and yellows swirled in a kaleidoscope over my lidded eyes.
The sun threw buckets of warmth onto my bare arms and legs, kissing my cheeks. The heat energized me, tickling my excitement. It held me in its arms, and spun me around. We danced as the saxophone played on. The moment the promise played upon your lips, trapped there, you were living for tomorrow.
Sometimes you give because you can't receive.
But you hope like hell someday you will be able to receive again.
"It's wonderful, it's wonderful, it's wonderful, good luck my baby. It's wondeful, it's wonderful, it's wonderful I dream of you. Chips chips."
~ Via Con Me by Paul Conte