Where's My Syllabus To Guide Me Through

I Never Understood The Point Of Being Sad When I Could Choose To Be Happy

She Mailed Me A Merry Christmas-i'm-breaking-up-with-you Card. I'll Read It To You," He Said. He Cleared His Throat. "dear Marcus. Merry Christmas. I'm Breaking Up With You. Mia.

What Are Your Thoughts?' 'my Thoughts?' I Replied, Before I Even Realized What I Was Saying. 'my Thoughts Created My World.' Mac Sat Up In His Seat. He Scrunched His Curls With His Hands, Perplexed. 'who Said That?' I Told Him The Truth. 'oh, Just Someone I Used To Know,' I Said, Stroking The Naked Skin On My Middle Finger.

So Everything We Believe About Happiness Is Wrong," I Said. He Nodded. Everything?" I Asked, When What I Meant Was, Everything? Including You? Including Me? And Marcus, Being Marcus, Knew What I Really Wanted To Know, And Answered My Silent, More Significant Question. He Held Up His Hand To Shield The Rays And Looked Me In The Eyes. Almost.

See, My Idea Of Cute Comes With An Iq Requirement. It's Geeky Cute. It's Rivers Cuomo, Not Justin Timberlake. It's Gideon Yago, Not Brian Mcfayden. Jimmy Fallon, Yes Please! Brad Pitt, No Thank You.