Today I realized the fallibility of man. Just man. How so, you ask? Well, patience, young one, I shall tell you all and more all.
(clearing throat) (clearing throat again (morning phlem lingering till next))
By the way, If in the course of this post, I should mispel a few words, forgive me. I am back at collage and not quite ready to be atop my ball game. If you know waht I mean. ;) wink wink.
ANYWAy, I digress, I realize now how much trust i should not put on the stronger more knowledgeble but also more falsible opposite sex. Why? Well, I will tell you twice. They lie. They lie. Twice said, no thrice. They lie. Where is my proof? You ask? Well, here, between my bosom and my brain. I shall tell.
I was lingering in the long long line of our famous school deli, called appropriatly, the Cavelier Grille. When a very tall thin blonde elf looking man said to me "Did you know it is going to rain today?" Which of course I replied that I did not. The weather here is very unpredictably predictable. How is that for a conundrum? He turned to me, and handed me an umbrella. "You might need this for your lovely curls." I was flattered, and blushingly, took the umbrella, our fingers brushing and I felt a sensation when and where we touched. I thanked him shyly, and he warned me of the danger of driving in the r ain. How he knew I was going to leave campus I knew not, I only knew I must see him again.
So, having quickly finished my meal, I followed him secretly. I watched him go to class. Waited for his class to get out. All the while holding the umbrella and glancing at the blue skies. Finally he came again, and i watched him walk gracefully across gaith er lawn, with his back pack carelessly hitting his left thigh as he walked. Oh to be that backpack. I followed him to his dornm. Then, realized the error of my ways and being a nature lover, ran into the forest to cry. As i cried, it rained. How poetically just. I was thankful for the umbrella and the elf lord who gave it to me. Upon returning to my room I realized the lie.
Looking in the mirror, I realized my hair was straight. He had called my locks curls, but thus they were not so. Oh, it makes no sense. Was he not talking to me? I do not understand. My heart breaks. I returned the umbrella, by placing it underneath his window, with a lock of my straight hair. If men did not lie, I would be led astray more often.