Eve Eve

It is the penultimate day of the year. And here you are, online, reading this and thinking I have misused the word “penultimate”. And here I am, online, writing it and thinking of you thinking that, and mocking you for your error. I am also mocking your choice of activity and outfit for tomorrow night, because I know (and so do you) that no matter what you do or what you wear, nothing will live up to your expectations. It never does, really, does it. Admit it.
So go out tonight instead. Get out of your pilly, stretched-out yoga pants and oversized T-shirt, and put on something that makes you feel pretty and thin and head-turning. Do up your hair all nice-like. With the tendrils that frame your face so softly. Spray some sweet-smelling parfum into the air in front of you and walk underneath it like it’s a sprinkler and it’s the summer and there’s no school tomorrow. (This goes for the boys too.)
Only conformists, wannabes, and potential “statistics” celebrate tomorrow night! But you? You’re not like anyone else. You’re your own person, and ain’t no one gonna tell you what to do!
So go on. Get outta here. What are you waiting for?