The feeling of release, the feeling of tranquility, the feeling of true liberation; that’s right, I’m talking about the feeling when you pop that nasty whitehead sitting directly below your nostril. Everyone’s had at least one little bugger who shows up at the most inopportune time possible, pulsing with pus. You can feel him mocking you as he ruins what otherwise might be considered as a semi-aestheticly pleasing face. As he grows, so does your anger, until finally, you splatter his guts against the mirror. Nothing feels better than that moment you feel him burst open, and nothing is more satisfying than wiping away any trace of the murder. However, the homicide is never truly gone; in his place, a scar forms. A permanent reminder of the horrible, engorged mass that once was.
It was one day during Rent rehearsal where my world started to turn grey. He took a seat next to me out of the blue, smiling this doofy smile that I had never seen before.
“Hey Kelso. Scarlet Letter, eh?” Not the most interesting topic of conversation, but it didn’t matter- my heart surprisingly jumped into my throat anyways.
“Y-yeah! Just started it- and I don’t hate it? Is that weird?” I tried my best to keep my cool as I looked into his dark brown eyes, noticing the way they glinted in the dimly lit theatre. As we talked, I noticed the way he ran his hand through his silky black hair, noticed the way he gingerly twisted his sunglasses in his hand, noticed the way he stole quick glances at me when he thought I wasn’t looking. I felt my own smile stretch across my face to match his, felt my heart palpitating as if I had an IV shooting caffeine directly into my bloodstream, felt the world around me slow down until nothing else was moving except for us. . What was this feeling? It had a familiar twang- something I hadn’t felt in about 3 and a half years. Oh shit, I thought to myself. I have a crush.