step out of line @provetoyou - Tumblr Blog

like an american.

More like idiotic. Great, a legend that was completely unaware of their own status. If being an oblivious genius isn’t the most endearing thing in the world, I’m at a loss as to what is. I’m sure Mona Lisa never believed she would be the star of one of the most beautiful paintings in the world, but now there she is. Shining with that half smile and those dead, but somehow gorgeous eyes. I sighed inwardly, envying this trait; I wish I had even known enough about who I was to modestly deny it. “Spencer. Spence,” I’d branded him with a nickname to break the ice between us; this was the outgoing part of me that didn’t come out all too often. It never felt all too right until this moment. “Johanna Michelle Sinclair. Hopefully we’re just… on a first name basis, because our names are mouthfuls.”

I chuckled, picking up a drink from one of the makeshift waitresses that had been passing by. At fancy evening dinners they’d wear some sort of vest with a bow tie, black and white and classy. Here, they’re in skimpy bikinis handing out martinis. I took a can of Pepsi, wanting to stay sober. I popped open the can as he spoke, a soft smile on my lips. “Um, yeah. I come from this really dreary town up North, so… I don’t know. You guys have so much sun, it’s phenomenal. I’m guessing you’re a local?”

provetoyou

Spence. Pursing my lips in fake contemplation, I nodded my head in playful approval. I had to admit that I was a sucker for nicknames, especially branding those with their own. I had a nasty habit of never remembering stranger’s names, and I always end up looking like a dick as I search for the name in a memory long forgotten. It’s not that I didn’t listen. I do, I really do, but these people never make a big enough impression on me for me to remember them. There was the flip-flip guy, the keg stand girl, the guy who yells a lot. That’s what these people were to me because the only thing they enjoy discussing is how wasted they can get. Typical.

“Johanna. Jo. J-Bird.” Not sure where it came from, but I thought it was pretty cute. It suited her. I gave her a cheeky grin and held onto the towel around my neck, pulling on both ends slightly. Ah, so she wasn’t a local. That makes more sense now. For some reason, it made me kind of excited. Like I had an excuse to show her all the little gems of this place that people normally look over. I could get her into the waterpark for free, but then I remembered working there isn’t that impressive. Okay, I’m thinking too far ahead. “Born and raised. Yeah, I enjoy it here. It’s kind of like it’s summer every day, or at least I make it that way. So how long have you been in town?”

#; jbird

smokeandyearn

like an american.

smokeandyearn

For such a right-brained person I figured what it was about the guy that attracted me so much. He was handsome, but in a distinguished manner, like if it wasn’t for his charm, his looks would be mediocre. He did certain outlandish things that no one else had the fearlessness to do, and in pursuit of these daring endeavors, others flocked to him. I wanted to be a part of that. I didn’t want to be flocked to or be a flocker, but I just wanted to be a part of the certain carelessness that he represented.

A chuckle left my lips at his endearing slip of words. Figures he had the charm that I had initially predicted him to have. Wet and all, he oozed social acceptance that I needed to get by. I felt the need to be his friend both for my reputation and just for my sanity; he seemed like the sort of guy I could get along with, as rarely as those came by. “Just a little,” I remarked, cheeky smile on my lips as I ran my fingers through my unruly hair. “But that was, like, really cool. Monumental. I’m Jo, it’s so nice to meet you,”

provetoyou

If I was an unmannered fuck like some of the other guys here, I might have had it in me to continue that accidental sexual joke I created. But I was my mother’s son and growing up in a house full of girls taught me right from wrong when it came to talking to women. I’m just thankful for that side of me, because I most likely could have made the situation even more uncomfortable like any other drunken person would here. She seemed nice though, kind eyes that makes you kind of want to solve whatever mystery she has going on. It was interesting, to say the least. Even if I was slightly buzzed, I could tell she was beautiful. Nothing beats a beautiful girl lending a hand. Except, you know, I never seem to talk right in front of girls.

After giving my head a quick dry once more, I did what I could with my clothes then sat the towel around my neck to rest. I smiled at her because I’ve always loved simple names. It’s easier to remember. My memory is shit, though.. I still feel like I’ll remember her name. “More like idiotic,” I remarked with a snicker, “Thanks though. I’m Spencer. Spencer Allen Day.” God, why did I just say my whole name like a douchebag? I wish I had some sort of sign on me that said I swear I’m not a douchebag. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around before. Came to soak up what’s left of the summer?”

#; jbird

smokeandyearn

like an american.

You were like, tall, tan, driving ‘round the city Flirtin’ with the girls like, “You’re so pretty.”

I didn’t know what to think when I got to college, but I knew I wasn’t going to let it take me down. I had worked far too hard my senior year, applying for school here, applying for school there, all the while not even knowing if I could afford it. But God graciously gave me an opportunity of a lifetime, student loans and financial aid all working towards my endless pursuit of the one thing I knew best: art. I woke up in the morning and I lived in a technicolor that was too real to be my own, but I reveled in it anyway, painting everything that I had seen on canvases I’d worked rag and bone to pay for. It was almost like I wasn’t worthy of the magical things I’d been seeing in my new town.

School was going to start in a couple of weeks, so everyone around found themselves fumbling over the last few days of summer. I could count the time we had left on two hands. Everyone enjoyed their summer here, while I’d just moved down from miles away, starting my path at the end of theirs. I guess we all were just beginning a new chapter of our lives. My book had already been written for me, embodied in not who I was, but the personalities I tried to adopt. I was the universe wrapped in skin, consciousness of Vincent Van Gogh incarnate, searching for a Starry Night.

I made a friend here and there when I walked around town aimlessly, searching for places my muse struck me the most. When they told me about a pool party at a stranger’s house, I wanted to go - I was eager to introduce someone to who I’d learned to be, the type of person that would fit in a town like this. And I wanted to go because maybe, just maybe, I’d find my niche.

When I arrived, I was quick to grab a drink and sit down, observing as everyone in the pool frolicked. I wore my two-piece underneath some flowy clothing, but I didn’t really feel up to swimming just yet. First I wanted to see the type of people around. I looked up and saw someone particularly bold at the top of the diving board, grin on his face before he dove into the pool, cannon ball style. Smirk on my lips, I stood up and grabbed one of the free towels, approaching the edge of the pool before he rose back up. I held out the towel. “You made quite the splash there, buddy.”

provetoyou

I guess it’d be easy and quick to assume that I was pretty immature. Yeah, I get that. I wouldn’t correct you, but I know that you’re wrong, even if it’s just a little. It’s not that I’m immature, it’s not that I’m a partier, I just like to have fun because I deserve it. Everyone deserves a little fun, a little escape, to live for the weekend. I lived for the weekend, and that’s pretty much all I ever lived for nowadays. Seemed like I was working too much to really enjoy my time, though my shifts at the water park were never dull. This summer wasn’t actually all that bad, and that’s how life should be. Not that bad or pretty fuckin’ awesome. I won’t settle for any less.

The summer days were coming near an end, school was just around the corner, so of course everyone was celebrating as much as they possibly could. People bask in these last days of summer like it’s never going to come around again, but in my world, it’s summer every day. I’m not saying it’s the best mentality to have, but it’s done wonders for me. Imagine if I gave in to the 9-5 mundane days that society forces upon everyone. You’d probably not like me, but then again I’m never too sure why anyone likes me. My mom says that I just have that spark, but I don’t know what the fuck she’s talking about.

Anyways, back to my point. I guess it’s pretty immature to be standing on a roof half sober, looking down at the pool below with people waiting in anticipation. Or maybe it was just insanely stupid. I guess that’s what immature entitles, though. Stupidity. I’ve learned to just embrace it, and that’s exactly what I did when I jumped off that roof and landed into the pool making a big splash. I didn’t hit my head on the floor, so I’d say it was a good success. I surfaced and heard the holler of random faces I hardly remembered and I threw my arms up in the air feeling like a champ. A champ of what? I don’t fuckin’ know. At least I’m still alive.

A voice caught me off guard and I turned to see a girl handing me a towel. I don’t normally remember faces, but I knew for some reason that I had definitely never seen hers. A smile cracked at my lips as I stepped out into the air, feeling a bit chilly all over once the breeze kicked in. “Thanks,” I told her, running the towel over my hair, “Hope I didn’t make you wet.” Oh god, that was such a weird choice of words. I grimaced, “I mean, yeah, the splash.”

#; jbird