Archaeology

I have an archaeology course. Today, my computer died. Nothing happens in archaeology. Ever. Lots of free time to peruse the interwebs. So I wrote something. Like, with a pen. On paper. And since that never happens, I'm going to transcribe it here.

Trying to figure out how to indent on blogger right now.

It's the button that looks like a quote. Probably for long quotes. Anyway:

 Am I a wallflower?

There's a girl at 10 o'clock. She always starts class with a gameboy SP. It's silver. I don't know what she's playing. Right now, she's propagating art. Pencil sketch is most likely. She has a slim and pale face. I don't know her name. I probably won't. Shelby. Her hair is rich and beautiful. In a natural way. like she doesn't mean to be. she just can't help it. I think I love her. I laughed while I wrote that last bit. I don't love anyone. Except mom and dad. And Steve. And Mike. And William Shatner Haha just kidding. Topical humor. I have to make jokes.The world is empty and quiet without them. I wonder if Shelby looks at me. Does she see me writing this? Irony? Nah, maybe dramatic irony. She can't know. What if she did? She sits at like 8:30 to me. Maybe 9, I just looked again. A short glance. How often do I glance? Is she counting?

 Does she know I exist?

     should she?

That is all. Some clarifications: gameboy girl is not Shelby. I have met Shelby. Once. She didn't seem to like me. Well, that's not true; she was going to sit with me in archaeology—she even told my friend Gus that. But she didn't. Am I intimidating? Or repellant? I'm afraid of love. also.

That seems so raw to me. Like I just flowed through the pen. I think I'm a little more cautious when typing. I form myself. In a font with a size. I think in the pursuit of organic content, I might switch mediums (which I don't believe should be a word) and continue to transcribe/analyze them here. Thanks.