handwritten ➸ s.m

shelly

❝i'm telling you to take your shot it might be scary
hearts are gonna break
'cause we don't have the time to be sorry
so baby be the life of the party

together we can just let go
pretending like there's no one else here that we know
slow dance fall in love as the club track plays
we don't care what them people say❞

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september 3, 2011

location: brad's crib in downtown pickering

age: 13

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oh god, i am so socially awkward. it is legit my second house party in my entire lifetime. it should be an exciting and fun ocassion. but, despite that, i am still in an i-don't-want-to-be-here mood.

i really wish i was at home, in my cozy corner ((full of fluffy pillows and warm blankets)) watching netflix.

but, i am here; standing against a wall, near the carpeted part of the floor where the teens are dancing. i am seriously acting like a complete party pooper right now, but i can't help it.

the only thing that is preventing me from walking out on this party, is the entretaining girl dancing in the middle of the dance floor.

she is dancing by herself. and i notice the popular girls whispering into each other's ears, as they laugh. they are probably talking shit about the "lonesome psycho dancing by herself," as i could imagine them nicknaming her. it is no shocker that the populars are gossiping about the girl, but i feel specially bad about them talking of a girl so... so... weird.

a good weird, of course.

i bet none of this generic middle schoolers, sadly including myself, would have the guts to stand in the middle of the dance floor and just dance gleefully.

i should start caring less about what other people think. i should go out there and dance, just like the girl with the curly hair is doing.

and so, i gather up my guts, and do it.

i abandon my distasteful solo cup of vodka with coke near a small table. i only drank alcohol because this year i decided that i had to start following the trends that cool people had to follow.

but fuck it. being cool doesn't happen from dusk to dawn. and trying to be cool takes too much damn effort.

i needed to be myself, and this girl was just the stimulation i needed to be so.

i walk over to the girl. i can feel my heart in my throat. i'm two fucking seconds away from puking my heart out.

"hey," i tell her, once our bodies are inches away. she is very pretty-- the type of girl who would never date shawn mendes. she has curly, chestnut color hair and intricately rich green eyes. "would you like to dance with me, babygirl?"

i flirt with girls 83% of the time. i do it, so i hope that someone falls for that flirting. let's face it here; i am not the smartest or richest or most handsome boy. but i do sure know how to treat a lady. and i hope that my growth spurt hits me as soon as possible because, when it does, i will be a double threat: handsome and flirty.