Isaac

Isaac.

It's a good name.

I used to have a crush on a boy named Isaac, a brutal, heart-rending crush. Thank God, the Isaac in question never knew about this crush. I don't think I would have survived it. We were friends, loosely.

I'm almost blushing thinking back to it.

This Isaac is less cool. It doesn't seem to have a habit of wearing striped loose sweaters, wallets with chains, a small blonde ponytail at the nape of the neck and Airwalk shoes.

They both share a certain... breeziness.

They both have caused me to spend plenty of time getting ready in case Isaac noticed me.

Back then, it was eyeliners and lipsticks and enticing plaid shirts over interesting t-shirts.

This weekend, it was candles and bottles of water and flashlights.

Isaac, however, is paying me no mind once again. This time, however, I'm not disappointed.

My thoughts and prayers are with those that Isaac eventually does hang out with.