The Absurdity of Fairy Tales

sixteen

..

You're in my heart and my lungs,

But even though I still think about you

When it's two a.m. and I can't sleep,

I'm not burning myself up anymore

Just to keep your memory alive.

..

I throw myself headfirst into studying over the next few weeks. I get so busy that I end up neglecting my friends a little—which is probably a good thing, because if I'm around Nick for too long, I get this weird urge to touch his face in a non-creepy but totally creepy way. It doesn't help that I'm suddenly constantly aware of how gorgeous he is, either. The thing is, I don't want to start anything with Nick until I've sorted out this mess in my head. It's not fair to either of us if I start a relationship with him before I'm one-hundred percent capable of putting my all into it. And I can't do that—can't support someone else and make a commitment to them—until I've done the same with myself. So for now, I have to clench my jaw and keep my hands to myself, however hard that might be.

Nick's pretty busy too with soccer practices on top of studying, so we don't get to see each other that much. But we talk when we can, and study together whenever possible. I read his final essays, and he reads mine. When I finish my Philosophy essay three and a half weeks before exams, he's the first person to get it.

And in the last paragraph, right before the conclusion, is this: when my parents first died, I took up existentialism as my personal philosophy for all the wrong reasons. In a mindset of guilt, the manifestos of personal responsibility spoke to me, and after the sudden loss of the two people I loved most, the idea that life had no meaning made perfect sense. Now, looking back at Simone De Beauvoir's philosophies, they aren't as bleak as I had thought. Existentialism, as I previously believed, is not akin or synonymous to nihilism. Life is not something with no meaning or point. As de Beauvoir states, we determine our own meaning to life. Nihilism was mine. Now, my meaning to life is living—making the most of what I have, and not letting the tragedies of my past define my future.

Nick emails me back with five smiley faces. (Also, at the very bottom: I'd give you a 94; there were two spelling mistakes and a wrongly-placed comma in the third paragraph. Also, you need to alphabetize your bibliography. Idiot.)

..

I cancel on Nick one day to eat lunch with the rest of my friends. We haven't ever done this before because of our crazy schedules, but there's only two weeks of school left and we don't have much more time.

We're sitting on the floor near Theatre, crisscross applesauce in a deformed circle, and reminiscing about our best memories. The Boys Have Cooties movie marathons. Cal's drunken escapades. The many play rehearsals. The time Nolan got punched in the face for calling Cal by her full name. That day we all went to the grocery store to get food for a movie night and Eli ran his grocery cart into a canned beans display. The time last year when Cal got stuck in her window after trying to sneak out and had to call us to help get her out. The game of laser tag on Del's birthday. When Nolan fell asleep at Eli's Sweet 16 "party" and got a makeover. That time Cal ripped one the morning after an all-nighter, sat up, opened her eyes, flashed us the peace sign and then promptly fell back asleep. The script Eli wrote about us where Cal got arrested for public indecency, Delilah ran off to Tibet to join the monks, Nolan became a cannibal, I tried to sing a note three octaves too high and died and Eli was prime ruler of the universe. The time Cal tried twerking, fell down a flight of stairs and sprained her ankle. The time I fell up a flight of stairs (don't ask me how that happened). Every good memory we have together, regardless of whether it's funny or embarrassing (or both).