Just Dance.

I hope the sun shines

and it's a beautiful day

and something reminds you

you wish you had stayed

Because this is real life, people.

In real life, people do drugs and have sex and tell lies.  In real life, people kiss you because "why not?" and people don't kiss you because "why?".  In real life, guys give incredible hugs and make beautiful manipulations.  In real life, girls compliment the face and gossip behind the back.  In real life, tables come crashing down because three teenage boys are playing war at a party.

In real life, feelings collide and so do thoughts.  In fact, real life is practically a war of head and heart, with a little will mixed in.  That's just real life.  Real life is math equations and story problems and punctuation and bad singing.  Real life is harsh and doesn't make sense.

But sometimes we get to have moments of fake life, like first kisses by a stream and fitting in.  Moments like painting a set or winning first place or someone unexpected flirt with you.  It's like re-reading your favorite book by a fireplace or having caramel hot chocolate with the most amazing people at IHOP at one in the morning.  Fake life is like hope and happiness and non-reality.

Fake life is taking risks, but so is real life.  We're all fake life and we're all real life and it's all life and the best part is that we all share it.

The best way to stay clean is to not start.
love always, laura.

It's fine.

Every moment before then escalated and exploded
in a whirl of
"we did it."
The sitting on the bus, staring out at the snow,
the eating licorice,
the drinking dr. pepper,
the reading scarlet letter,
the watching tangled.
The getting to Cedar City
and going immediately to
"Dial M for Murder".
The going to Taco Bell
the eating my favorite food.
The going to Winter's Tale
the leaning my head on Drew.
The falling into bed
the talking with the roommates
the exchange of stories
the falling asleep.
The waking up and going to breakfast
the seeing everyone after rolling out of bed.
The seeing those who care and
the seeing of those who wanted to get food asap.
The going and setting up Titus
the seeing titus
the chills from seeing titus
the amazement at the talent of my friends.
The going to Mickey D's
the not eating anything there.
The going to "Noises Off!" and
the laughing until everything hurts.
The looking at the one on my right
the wondering why people are trying to set us up
the wondering why I'm so interested.
The talking and ranting and
the watching "say yes to the dress"
the watching "four weddings"
the feeling of excitement that they don't really hate me.
The feeling of excited disbelief that a senior thinks I'm cutest.
The sleeping, again.
The waking up, the seeing other students.
The happiness that we are so blessed with good teachers and good actors.
The amazement at the talent of my friends, again.
The setting up of Titus, again.
The amazement at the talent of my friends, again again.
The non-eating of pizza.
The sitting in a chair.
The almost falling asleep.
The waking up, the sitting up straight, the grabbing of hands.

The moment came at last.
That moment of complete and utter victory
and suddenly I'm part of something big
and something beautiful
and something I'm meant to be a part of.

And in that one moment of complete and utter victory,
[ignore this next line that's been running through my head all day]
"We few, we happy few, we band of brothers"
were all the same.
We screamed what we went to do
and we hugged and we cried and we laughed
until our voices were hoarse
and our jaws numb.
And across the enormous room,
what set me off,
was the Lone Peak Shakespeare Team
standing and cheering for us.

Thank you, everyone. Thank you for those last three days.
Thank you for including me.
Thank you for making me feel _______.


And then the bus ride home.  Whispering secrets
and saying random things, like,
"It's all fine, Addy."
and her saying,
"Obviously."
and then almost sleeping.
And then eating licorice, again.
And then thinking
thinking
thinking
thinking
and then him sitting by me
and me sitting by him
and her laying on us
and me leaning on him
and him leaning on that
and us talking about it
and then me crying on him
and him thinking it's that
and her getting up and leaving
and him seeing my face
and my looking away
and him whispering in my ear
and me shaking my head
and him holding me close
and him talking 'til I smile
and me spilling it all
and him listening to me
and him comforting me
and me saying thank you
and him falling asleep on that
and me falling asleep on him.

except not really.
in reality,
I was thinking again.
And I'm even more confused now.
But it's fine.
It's all fine.

real life has become Shakespeare,
and fake life has become...here.
It's fine that there's only three days of real life a year.

love, laura.