This night, my senior year of highschool, was almost important to me. Almost.

It started in October, I think. Everything seems to have it's roots in that month for me. Whatever month it was, Jess and I were in bloom, and all our mutual friends seemed to agree that we had some kind of future together. I miss that kind of environment.

It was just before Homecoming, and she and I were at the store, though neither of us were working. We had just decided to go for whatever reason.

We were in aisle 8 (I think...whichever one has the soda), sharing a moment together. Our friend and co-worker, Cassie yelled to us from further down the aisle, and the three of us started talking. Cassie asked us if we were going to the Homecoming dance together. Jess said "No," and I laughed at Cassie.

"I've taken a vow never to attend a school dance, no pep-rally, no concert, no play, nothing," I told her.

"I got news for you: you and I are going to prom together, whether you like it or not," Jess said, matter-of-factly. This was one of the things about her I really liked, though I'd probably never admit it to her. I loved it that she was the only one I knew who would tell me what she wanted me to do.

Initially I didn't want to go, and for a few days I was plagued with doubt.

I don't think I've ever felt as uncomfortable as when I've been forced to dress up.

I can't dance. Or rather, I don't want to.

No! Then the others will know I'm not as stubborn as they think!

I quickly realized that none of those fears and reservations mattered when compared to the incredible way she made me feel when I was around her. I decided she was worth it.

At the time, prom night was set for April 2nd.

Plans change, of course, and in this case it didn't take long for it to be accepted between us that we weren't going together, though I forget exactly why.

But in all honesty, I'm sure it was something stupid that I said. I made a habit of saying stupid things around her. I don't think I was capable of even stringing words together to make a comprehendable phrase out of them when around her, so that's not a big shock to me now. All the time in the world later, I still have that problem with her. Fuck whatever I say when I'm not around her, it's true. She still reduces me to bumbling and incoherent attempts to voice myself.

If she could only hear me now.

By the way, even if I'm coming off as bitter right now, I'm not (consciously).

Early in my teen years, it started to seem like my ego had become so massive and dense that the rest of the world began to revolve around it. Coincidence and happenstance were debatable.

At some point, the powers-that-be moved Prom-night to April 30th, for reasons unknown. My heart, my hopes, and my ego jumped all over it.

This is your second chance. No one else's. This happened just for you, and you alone.

What an ego blow that thought turned out to be. I'm still looking forward to when it finally hits me that the universe isn't as self-contained as I think it is, and that there isn't a cosmic chaos theory that always reflects on me.

I still want her. I still daydream. I'm not bitter or angry at all. Not at her, at least. She's perfect, after all. It's my fault, I'm the moron with no sense of time, with my tongue taped to my face. I'm the one that failed to act when I should've.

I don't know if I really mean that, or if I'm parodying myself. It frightens me.

I can't win, because I've got failure on my sleeve.

If she could only hear me now.