Not to say that there’s only one thing I don’t like about myself (I have a list). However, the one that’s currently bothering me is how easily I form crushes. Anywhere I go, whether it’s a class, a job, or just a social circle; there’s always a girl that I gravitate towards, and create excuses to talk to. The most unfortunate consequence of this emotional defect is that it turns me into a functioning moron. I get all fuzzy inside, and think “If it feels this good, it must be love!” like some kind of socially impaired Disney princess that was locked in a tower her whole life. Which, by the way, would seriously fuck somebody up. I don’t know where Disney gets off marrying these women into royalty. I mean, come on, Rapunzel? There’s no way her head was the only place that that hair was growing. The girl would be a total yeti. Not to mention all the weird ticks she’d form after spending her childhood in isolation. Mob bosses and murderers lose their minds in solitary confinement, but a teenage girl is going to come through all rainbows and butterflies? No way.

Anyway. In the past, this fairy tale mentality has typically caused me to get impatient and make it weird.  As a result, the rational side of my mind has developed its own voice. His name is Lewis, and he’s an asshole. Lewis’s job is to keep a detailed record of all the memories I’m ashamed of, and then bring them up whenever my self-esteem gets too high. He’s like my Cinderella safety valve. Any time I get overzealous, Lewis just pulls the appropriate file, like “Hey hey, pump the brakes Peter Pan. Remember the time you tried to kiss Erin McArthur* after 5th period and she screamed “stalker” in your face?  Yeah. Sewed yourself into a real asshat on that one. You should probably abort this mission unless you want to hate yourself for a month.”

Now, here I am again. In a new place, with a girl in my head, and Lewis chirping in my ear 10 times a day to tell me what a piece of shit I am. All the while, Purple Unicorn Princess is on my other shoulder riding a flock of butterflies into the horizon, and playing a magic lute that makes my wiener feel like sunshine. It’s always hard to say which one will win out, because my rational side is relentless, but the princess doesn’t need much of a window to strike. She’s fast, she’s reckless, and she’s extremely persuasive.

I’ll let you know how it goes.

Footnotes:

*I don’t want to talk about it.