Here Comes the Sun

Sometimes I'm terribly vain, and I like to imagine what people think when they're driving by and they see a teenaged girl, dressed in a white Beatles sweatshirt and short shorts, with her hair pinned to look like one side's been shaved, carrying a "bombin'" houndstooth umbrella, walking in the rain as she sings "Oh! Darling" at the top of her lungs. I like to think that they'll say I'm poetic or free-spirited or a golden-orange leaf, floating on the winds of hope and happiness like nobody's business. But of course, that's not what they're thinking. Rather, it's what I'm thinking, or at the least what I what to think about myself. I want to be that free spirit I claimed to be when I stood wearing Stupid Jessica's fancy dress in the parking lot of the Cheesecake Factory in the middle of the night, An Abundance of Katherines in one hand and my highest heels in the other, and shouted for Kristian and all the world to hear that I was going to climb on top of a car. I want to be the girl who would (and could) spend the passing period laying on the concrete, soaking up the delicious sunlight, as the rest of the world carried on. I want to be beautiful. I want to be happy.

Taylor, why do you have to be so much like him? It doesn't improve anyone's situation, and yet, I am still grateful that you will stop and talk to me about the disaster that is prom and money problems and DCI and happy things. It brightens my day, despite the fact that it causes my night to be full of fretting. Really, you're cool.

Mr. Lind, you make me yearn to be a teacher, like passionately. To spend my days making kids laugh and smile and not notice or care that we ended class five minutes late since we were so caught up in your lesson on how to write a good introductory sentence for an AP essay. Thank you for coming back to us.

Still scheduled to take two Latin I classes next year. Still have five and twenty things to pay for. Still have to struggle through wood shop. But as "Here Comes the Sun" came on and the rain instantly fell harder and more rapidly, and to drive the song out and prove it wrong, I smiled. Hearing the song again after school while trying to tan my legs at the bus stop, I smiled again, for I had discovered the kind of person I know I am...

A nerd who appreciates The Beatles, real life examples of irony, and happyesque endings.