Don't let the fear of striking out keep you from playing the game.

"However, Ron did not appear on the map, and after a while Harry found himself taking it out simply to stare at Ginny's name in the girls' dormitory, wondering whether the intensity with which he gazed at it might break into her sleep, that she would somehow know he was thinking about her, hoping that she was all right."

So... Where exactly is my Harry Potter?
Yes, I realize I get emotional about weird stuff.  Like a fictional snowy owl's death
or the realization that boys in fictional stories often don't exist in real life.

However, after hearing something from a very good friend of mine
about his growing love life,
and hearing about how sweet he is
[of course, I always knew that]
and thinking about some of my other friends
-"Eugene" for example-
I know these boys exist.

So again... Where's mine?

I want to sit at the public library, reading a book next to a boy I love.  I want to meet with this boy everyday and go on wonderful adventures.  I want a boy I love to show me that my only kisses in my life aren't only going to be from a jerk.  I want to sit next to a boy I love while he plays me the piano [hopefully he'll possess this talent].  I want to go to a Bee's game with this boy I love [because, from some odd quirk, I absolutely love watching baseball].  I want to watch chick flicks and go on car rides and play on playgrounds and go to movies with a boy I'll love and who'll truly love me.  I want another summer romance, but not one tempered with lies, like last year's.

With all my hopes and dreams laid out plainly on my sleeves,
Laura.

PS.  To those who believe my whole blog is about me wishing for a boy, get over yourselves.  This is one post.  And hello, I'm a teenage girl.  Every teenage girl [and probably the boys, too--though I wouldn't know] think about this occasionally.