A Moment in the Life of a Metacognitive, Existentialist Teenager #1

Teenagers are too little or too much, will we ever fit in?

She is just gorgeous. I can’t even look at her sometimes. Okay, no, I lied. I can look at her all the time because she is beautiful. How is it even possible to look that good? I wonder how her clothes haven’t burned off her body yet, or how that drink she’s holding hasn’t turned into a river of melted gold. I’m such a poet, I swear. I’m quite possibly in the presence of the only angel that fell from heaven and survived both the drop and that ridiculously cheesy pickup line that I’m definitely not going to use. Or should I? Man, I’m so awkward. Maybe I should just walk up to her and introduce myself. HELLO MY NAME IS HUMPTY. ALLOW ME TO AMAZE THEE!  No! What is wrong with me? I’m so lame I can hear the walls laughing at me. Oh no, wait, that’s actual people laughing me. Fantastic. Oh god, what is she doing? Is she looking at me? S**t, she’s looking at me. What was it? Let me be painfully sarcastic: it can’t possibly be because I’ve been staring at her for the last hour. What if this is one of those moments from movies where the nervous kid meets the girl of his dreams- more like wet dreams, I mean, let's be real- and they fall in love. No, not enough of a conflict. Damn it, focus! What do I do? How do I even talk to her? Act like myself. Really, is that the best advice I have for myself? Okay, whatever, indifference, angst. Be calm, it’s all you. But what defines all? And who am I? S**t, stop being such a f*****g wannabe, but actual, existentialist.

“Hey,” the most beautiful girl in the world had said to me.  

“Hey! My name is Humpt- no I mean, never mind. Now you respond.”

“Well, you didn’t ask me anything, so?”

Oh god, I already ruined my whole life. Right, so new plan: act like somebody who’s actually cool. I’m such a genius. Insert sarcastic laugh and self-high-five.

“Aye yo, ma. Let me talk at you for a minute. I just wanted to let you know that I’ve been thinking ‘bout you ‘fore I even knew you.”

“But…you don’t even know me,” she said.

“Oh, well, right. Yeah, so anyways, what do you think of my swog?”

“Uh, do you mean your swag?” she said making a face.

“Oh, sure. So yeah, I left my other swag at home, but I always carry an extra pair, you know, in my…uh whatever they keep swag in. My socks?”

Wow. I wonder if anybody on the corner is selling a lifetime membership for Eharmony that most probably already has my name written on it.

“You’re trying too hard. Get out of your head.”

What does that even mean? Am I right, obviously referring to the audience that is clearly laughing at me from a distance and really everything in my life is part of a T.V. show like that one Jim Carrey movie. Oh, maybe that’s what she means. WHY ARE MY THOUGHTS SO LOUD?

“Was it obvious that I was choking on my own foot?”

“I don’t know. How does swag taste?” she said smiling.

“Like a cheesy pickup line.”

“How cheesy?” she asked.

“Angel. Fell. Heaven. Hurt. Question mark.”

She laughed.  She actually laughed.  

“Nice to meet you, Humpty. By the way, I love that song.”

Somebody please take me to the winner’s circle because I am amazing!