Wishful Thinking

by Annabelle O'Reilly, age 15
Wishful Thinking Annabelle O'Reilly is a rising junior at the Academy of the Holy Cross. When not writing, she likes to play ice hockey.

“Okay, okay, I just need to take a few breathers, calm down, and think of a plan that would actually work; because at this rate I’ll never get a girlfriend by the end of high school!”

“‘Hello, my name is Steve. I am a male underwear model, so I know how to strike a pose!’…and that’s when I just wink and point my fingers like guns and…. BAM I got myself a girlfriend!!”

I circle the word “Goal!” on my notebook and start twiddling my pencil between my fingers and think, No, no that’s waaay too cheesy. Darn! At this rate I’m never gonna get myself a girlfriend! Plus my name’s not even Steve. Why did it have to be the uncool name, Swanhilde! Along with this lame name comes my short height which would never make me a model! Arg, I just about have the WORST luck in the world! Maybe I should just give up and become a priest or something. At least that way I would have a legitimate reason as to why I don’t have a girlfriend… Ugh, but being a priest would be so exhausting! I mean, keeping the secrets of people’s bad deeds and repeating the same lines over and over again everyday is definitely not for me. Okay, okay, I just need to take a few breathers, calm down, and think of a plan that would actually work; because at this rate I’ll never get a girlfriend by the end of high school!

…Alright so it’s already been 30 minutes, and I still can’t think of anything better. I mean now my mind has somehow wandered into the realm of cheesy pickup lines with the horrible catastrophes, “Are you a banana? Because I find you a-peeling,” or even, “You’re so beautiful that you made me forget my pickup line.” Now I’m starting to feel as though something’s wrong with me. All those years of being raised under the constant torture of my dad’s bad jokes is probably finally getting to me.

I stop to seriously think for a minute, then finally a brilliant idea pops in my head.

“Maybe it’s about time I got some professional help,” I proclaim.

I grab my phone out of my pocket, swipe through the contacts and stop at that beautiful name, Jacob a.k.a. the Love Expert. This guy has dated tons of girls; he’s dated girls in our high school, girls from different high schools, girls that currently go to college, and girls that are out of college and working. He is definitely my idol; the man who will hopefully one day turn my name from Swanhilde to Suavehilde. Although none of his relationships have ever worked out…but that’s not the point. The point is that he has experience. Wow, I never thought I could ever associate that word with dating, but it’s all because of that truly divine man, Jacob. I quickly dial his number, press the call button, and begin listening to those lull rings as I anticipate that “Hello?” when the love expert picks up and can finally answer all of my prayers… But instead I find myself with his voicemail and decide to politely leave a message asking him to call me back.

Alright, so it seems that so far I have not made any progress at all, and all I’ve been doing is sitting at my desk for a few hours thinking of nothing but pure nonsense. At this rate there’s no way I’ll ever get a girlfriend, I should probably give up on such wishful thinking for now. I guess it would be a good time to commence the backup plan. I scrummage through my backpack and whip out my true bae, my Nintendo DS. I insert my pokemon game, the screen begins to glow, and that beautiful theme song begins to play. Well, I may not be able to catch the ladies’ hearts, but I know for sure that I am a master at catching pokemon! I flop on my bed and play until I fall asleep. Jeez, being a teenager is exhausting.

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