Expectations

I wake up in the morning to a box of Kneader’s cinnamon rolls accompanied by a poem outlining how I’m almost as sweet as they are signed by my super sexy, football-playing boyfriend. I walk downstairs to find a single red rose on the kitchen counter and out the door to find a giant heart drawn into the frost on my windshield. Driving to school, I hear all of my favorite love songs and everything seems right with the world. Upon walking into my super easy film class, I spot another rose on my desk accompanied by a small note that says simply “Will you.” The whole first period goes well, the teacher seems to be feeling the love in the air as much as I am. In my next incredibly easy class, I find yet another rose and a note that says “Go to.” Each class period goes by in a similar manner and by the end of the day I have notes that say “Will you” “Go to” “Prom” and several roses. I walk out of my incredibly easy last class of the day to find my aforementioned super sexy boyfriend standing with several more roses and a poster that says “With me.” He then walked over and kissed me in front of everyone. Later that night, we went out to my favorite restaurant and walked around Daybreak Lake with some hot chocolate. He stopped me on the bridge and pulled out a box that contained the most beautiful necklace I’d ever seen and we kissed in the most romantic fashion, of course.

Reality

I wake up in the morning to the sound of the alarm clock singing some sappy song about only belonging with one person your whole life and fight the urge to retch. I walk downstairs to find… no one. I grab a whole wheat granola bar and walk outside to find my car covered in perma-frost that I have to scrape off despite the fact I’m running super late. I get to my ridiculously hard class and it seems the general mood of the crappy day has rubbed off on my teacher as well. I’d love to say the whole day passes in a similar incredibly cynical fashion, but it’s just not true. The girl in my second period got asked to prom, the boy in third period left early to take his girlfriend to a romantic albeit hurried lunch and I… sat through it, every last sappy minute of it. At lunch, even my peanut butter sandwich was feeling the hurt which led to it being drier than usual. My last class ended with the obnoxious sound of the bell and like thirty bajillion more people getting asked to prom, but alas, not me. I go home to hear that my parents have decided on the last minute to go to dinner and a romantic movie, leaving me to spend the night with my little brother and endless reruns of A Bug’s Life. I go to bed knowing that tomorrow will be a better day. I mean, how could it get any worse?