i think john green really hit it, in paper towns. i'll get to it.
it's like this realm of some surreal swirl that i'm being hurled into- not permanently, but up until may 28. the itching of stryafoam trays, the drips of our grape juice packs, cute little notebooks our parents bought that we turn pages with sticky fingers, hands clapping other hands, laughs catching other laughs, smirks and droopy eyes, terrible posture and bad hair days. whatcha' got there under your seven class periods. pocket full of lunch money, pocket full of cigarettes, pocket full of twitching hands, paper steps taken in paper hallways, being watched by paper eyes that you can see right through until you're seeing the exact way they're looking at you, and all the ones looking from behind and inside them too.
paper friends with paper intentions.
i've liked too many people for the idea's i had of them. i've known too many people who only liked me for the idea of me. and things are always a lot different than we imagine them to be, right margo? how different? worse, or better? the thought vs the real. either way- the two are never quite the same.
i've met a few people who completely lacked depth.
but i've met even more pretending to be oceans.
i don't want to be an ocean, guys. i don't want to be an ocean, god. i don't want to be an ocean. even if it means i'm just a puddle. and i also don't want to believe a window or a mirror is the same thing as what it's showing me.