He said, "Look at you worrying so much about things you can't change
You'll spend your whole life singing the blues if you keep thinking that way."
He was trying to skip rocks on the ocean, saying to me
"Don't you see the starlight, starlight
Don't you dream impossible things?"
Becquerel is my 9-week-old Samoyed puppy. He is my world.
My parents agreed to move on the condition that I be rewarded with a puppy for my efforts. I'm not quite sure that a small, fluffy animal can make up for the loss of everything I've ever known, but it does an awfully good job. Nothing fights off sadness quite like puppy breath.
My name is Marky. I am of average height and average weight and I am spectacularly talented at hating people/things/the universe, except Bec. I have long dark hair that I usually tie up or whatever because I can't be bothered to have it falling in my face, but my buns don't come out looking all messy and cute like they do for those girls in pictures on Instagram; they usually look like the nest of some small creature sitting on the back of my head. (FYI, I do not have an Instagram. Such things are mainstream and I am certainly not the kind of person who likes mainstream things. I don't even know if there are pictures of sexy girls with messy buns on Instagram, but I'm sure you understand what I'm trying to say.) My eyes are a muddy grayish-blue, like half-melted snow that has been stepped on by fat children, running around in their too-large boots while trying to enjoy what's left of the fanciful white coldness that will be gone when winter is over.
People say I'm long-winded. That is a lie.
I am not a beach girl. Nor am I a city girl or a country girl. I do not let my surroundings define me. What defines me is my affinity for things strictly not-hipster and not-mainstream and my incredible ability to get to round 14 in Zombie Black Ops. It's so weird that everyone around here spends their life splashing and laughing and tanning and going loopy in all the sun. Don't they know there are more important things than their next beach trip?
What I mean to say is that last week we arrived here - here being the vague beach town titled Sullivan's Cape, NC - from Montana. Majestic mountains and hiking boots to flat beaches and heat and skin. And I didn't really care about the move, but I wanted to get something out of it, so I requested a puppy because puppies are awesome and because my parents thought I was really distraught about the move which meant they were willing to do anything for me as long as I didn't put up a fight, and if I had done that they would have dragged me here anyways and everything would be the same as it is now, minus one puppy. So I'm alright with it here. But I do miss the mountains and cool air.
I start school soon. Yes, soon I will be among the ranks of skinny tanned girls and buff tanned guys who are all vapidly obsessed with the beach and stuff, while I, the palest person within a 50 mile radius, who does not fit into either category and never will, will be trying to exist in a way that is not to conspicuous and not too mainstream and not too hipster.
It will be hard. Wish me luck.
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