…but not as cute as Pushkin.
It’s weird. I try so hard, or I don’t try at all, and no matter what, some people will NEVER be even REMOTELY interested in you. Lame. Do you ever notice me? Are my texts, my Facebook posts, or my passing “hello’s” ever appreciated? I doubt it. But how I wish they were. I wish you would look at me and think more than “Oh. Her.” I wish it would take you less than thirty minutes to text back the word “Hah.” I wish you would have laughed at my joke about changing your persona to “badass biker.” But wishes are just that: wishes. Again, I turn to academics to console me. I do find such refuge in Catherine Earnshaw’s trials. In the ancient city of Athens, I find shelter. Alexander Pushkin brings a smile to my face, only rivaled by that which you can inspire. I love learning. Acquiring knowledge is one of the most enrapturing experiences. I mean, Corey, you sure are cute… but not as cute as Pushkin.
I think maybe I’ll go to California for this summer if Peru doesn’t happen. I found some good paid internships, and they sound pretty decent. I could be a beach bum writer all summer. Switching audiences: how do you like the sound of that, you? Since you think a missions internship is a cop-out, a lame attempt to make a difference in the world, how about I go sit around in West Hollywood, sipping up some Vitamin D and writing about what Cameron Diaz ate for breakfast? Would that make a difference? Would that make you happy? I think I would be content. I would have been truly happy in Peru, but since now that may not even happen (probably thanks to your jinxing), I guess I will settle for idle, contemptuous contentment. Whatever. Have it your way.
I need a cup of coffee. Too bad I can’t afford a coffee maker. Or coffee, for that matter. I do have such a lovely mug, though.
