Model UN Club, Bay Area Volunteer Club, BHS National Honor Society? Those all seem doable, within reach. Oh, but Volunteer and NHS both fall on Thursday. To replace it, she could . . .
Hm . . .
Jewish Student Union?
Maybe she could pretend . . .
Man, who is she kidding? It’d just be for attention. Specifically his. She only does this for him; it’s all for him. See, she only tries to speak up in class so that he’ll think she’s smart. She only does community service or volunteers herself if he’ll see it. She pretends to have his interests so he’ll notice her. If she participates in enough activities or if she’s a part of enough groups, then eventually he’ll know she exists, right? Maybe if she gets good enough at Rubik’s Cubing or pole vaulting, she can compete on the national level and her name will show up somewhere. Or maybe she can just try to be friends with his friends, and form a connection that way. Maybe if she matters to enough other people then she’ll matter to him. If she becomes someone he’d like, then he’ll have to like her.
That takes time though; it’s too late for all that. It’s always been too late.
There was no preparing for this game, no. She was in it from the day she was born. Some people get scared off by the chase. Some people save themselves from the pressure to stand out, to be better. Everyone has a fear of failure but not everyone lives in it — all the jealousy, all the tears.
“It’s easier for everyone else.”
“They’re what he wants, not me.”
“I’m not enough.”
“Boo-hoo, this is why it’s easier for everyone else.”
Oh, but the dream of him, it’s much more powerful than those voices. It makes these complaints sound like tiny little squeaks, stupid noise.
The dream of him is real -- she’s felt it strongly. He’s the reason she stays up late; he’s the reason she gets up early. He’s the reason she focuses on her work in class, but he’s also what she sees when she stares off into space. Sure, it doesn’t have to be this way, but does she wish it weren’t? The race gave her purpose. He makes her feel inadequate, yet he’s why she even tries not to be.
She wants to get a 4.0 unweighted, she wants to be an active member of her community, she wants to care about people, she wants to achieve things.
Like National Merit . . .
A 1530 SAT too . . .
And fives on AP tests? Ah, getting hungry.
These things all sound great, but she only needs them for one reason.
She lives him, she laughs him, she loves him, she breathes him. His tall buildings, all his cute study locations, that active city life, the brisk and cozy winter and sweet and sweaty summer. Those huge lecture halls, and clock towers you could stare at for hours.
Everyone knows it. She’s heard them all ramble on about him like this.
Everyone wants him to be their destiny and everyone holds secret hope that theirs is not a futile dream, but just a reach away, or could even be a match.
Everyone believes they could be perfect for him. And yet she believes this fate can only be hers. How delightfully tragic, that fate is a fancy word for luck. She’s made herself for him, and she needs him, and he needs her, but that alone means nothing.
Hm . . .
Jewish Student Union?
Maybe she could pretend . . .
Man, who is she kidding? It’d just be for attention. Specifically his. She only does this for him; it’s all for him. See, she only tries to speak up in class so that he’ll think she’s smart. She only does community service or volunteers herself if he’ll see it. She pretends to have his interests so he’ll notice her. If she participates in enough activities or if she’s a part of enough groups, then eventually he’ll know she exists, right? Maybe if she gets good enough at Rubik’s Cubing or pole vaulting, she can compete on the national level and her name will show up somewhere. Or maybe she can just try to be friends with his friends, and form a connection that way. Maybe if she matters to enough other people then she’ll matter to him. If she becomes someone he’d like, then he’ll have to like her.
That takes time though; it’s too late for all that. It’s always been too late.
There was no preparing for this game, no. She was in it from the day she was born. Some people get scared off by the chase. Some people save themselves from the pressure to stand out, to be better. Everyone has a fear of failure but not everyone lives in it — all the jealousy, all the tears.
“It’s easier for everyone else.”
“They’re what he wants, not me.”
“I’m not enough.”
“Boo-hoo, this is why it’s easier for everyone else.”
Oh, but the dream of him, it’s much more powerful than those voices. It makes these complaints sound like tiny little squeaks, stupid noise.
The dream of him is real -- she’s felt it strongly. He’s the reason she stays up late; he’s the reason she gets up early. He’s the reason she focuses on her work in class, but he’s also what she sees when she stares off into space. Sure, it doesn’t have to be this way, but does she wish it weren’t? The race gave her purpose. He makes her feel inadequate, yet he’s why she even tries not to be.
She wants to get a 4.0 unweighted, she wants to be an active member of her community, she wants to care about people, she wants to achieve things.
Like National Merit . . .
A 1530 SAT too . . .
And fives on AP tests? Ah, getting hungry.
These things all sound great, but she only needs them for one reason.
She lives him, she laughs him, she loves him, she breathes him. His tall buildings, all his cute study locations, that active city life, the brisk and cozy winter and sweet and sweaty summer. Those huge lecture halls, and clock towers you could stare at for hours.
Everyone knows it. She’s heard them all ramble on about him like this.
Everyone wants him to be their destiny and everyone holds secret hope that theirs is not a futile dream, but just a reach away, or could even be a match.
Everyone believes they could be perfect for him. And yet she believes this fate can only be hers. How delightfully tragic, that fate is a fancy word for luck. She’s made herself for him, and she needs him, and he needs her, but that alone means nothing.