An hour seems like a suitable amount of time to lie in bed thinking myself into depression before I decide to get up, flip the calendar to October, stare at hundreds of King Penguins on Antarctica, and then sit down in front of my computer screen to write down this miserable opening line that I very much enjoy.
There is this girl in one of my community college classes that I am very much obsessed with. Not in the way that I would like to have sex with her, or go out with her, or anything like that, but in a way that I will come to describe. She is a Russian girl and she has a very pretty Russian name that I will not write to spare her identity, but not really. Really I will not write it because I do not know how to spell it. But on further examination I have decided that even if I did know how to spell it, which I could easily find out, I would still not write it. But enough about her name, it is of no importance at all. She is very attractive. I would not hesitate one moment to say the prettiest girl in all of my classes this term, but you should know that my History class is so very, very ugly, the guys more so than the girls. But enough about her attractiveness, it is not what matters. If she were a heifer I’d still be just as obsessed. But why am I obsessed? I will get to the point. (When?) now. I am thoroughly convinced that she is the most enjoyable person in the entire world.
I’m not a believer of spirituality and energy and the like, I’m not a huge disbeliever, I’m like one of those annoying people who say they don’t believe we can ever know if God really exists, only instead of God insert spirituality and energy for me, but I am almost certain that this most enjoyable Russian girl has happiness energy rays exuding from her every pore. From the first second I saw her during her introductory presentation, which we all had to do, I pepped up. I don’t know what it was. She wasn’t terribly interesting. She’s even deeply religious, which usually annoys the hell out of me but with her I didn’t mind. She just had this extreme likability. When I got to talk to her for a bit a few days later my insane theory was only further backed up. I spent the whole time poking and prodding, trying to find something, anything, a chink in the armor that would tell me she wasn’t as happy and enjoyable as she appeared to be. But I found nothing. And it wasn’t annoying at all. I hate people. I should hate this person. She’s so happy and enjoyable. Shouldn’t that annoy the fuck out of me? It doesn’t. In fact it’s impossible for me to be angry or upset when around her or thinking about her. It’s like she has an invisible bubble around her that perverts any negativity within a twenty foot radius. She’s always smiling and laughing. Even when I brought up the Holocaust she was still smiling and laughing, which should have been creepy but it was still nothing but enjoyable.
I want to be her (now that’s creepy).