I am tired today. Last night was giggles and bruises and affection through competition and hurt feelings and almost exceeded expectations and turns of events. Last night I saw my best friend.
Do you know, there is a theory that explains how he is? How we are? It is something like the illusion of asymmetric perception, that is, the belief that one is more perceptive of those around them than they are of the person. Like he is with me. Like I am with him.
I wonder if he's thinking about me now. If he's finishing his more urgent priorities so he can see me tonight.
When I get to school, the first thing I do is sit down. The second thing I do is brush my hair. The third thing? Look for him.
Sick is how I feel now.
If he has to do things before he can see me, does that make me the top priority, or the things? Intention versus outcome, he says I'm stupid for voting intention, but he doesn't understand that if I didn't, we couldn't be friends.
Or whatever we are.
Does he remember my favorite flower? My middle name? My birthday? The answers are: daffodil, Catherine, this Wednesday. I think my birthday fell on a Wednesday when I was nine. I think I fell on a Tuesday. Tuesday's child, full of grace, but I wanted to be Monday's child, fair of face.
I wonder what day he was born on? I know the date, his favorite flower, his middle name. The answers are: the twentieth of June, violets, Manuel.
I wonder if he'll ever love me like he ought to. The answer is: no.
I should have been Thursday's child, far to go.