Random Story-ish

As a writer, sometimes I'll just be going about my business and BAM! Lines from a story just hit my brain, and I have to fumble to write them down somewhere. For once, I actually got to write down my thoughts. This is just random stuff that popped into my head--no setting, no character names, no background. Just random. It's not very good (at all!) and doesn't make very much sense (none, actually) but I just needed to write it down. So here it is:

She has this way of saying things that both confuses and amazes me. It's like she's complimenting me while at the same time being insulting. But it's not in the Mean Girls way. It's like she's just stating facts, facts about how I'm supposedly better than her, but in the end she will be better than me. Gah, I can't explain this very well at all. Like...here's what she said to me when we were walking home from school:

Her: My friends are always gonna be the beautiful hot teenage girls and I'm always gonna be the cute little kid.

Me: That's not true...you're not "little", and you are beautiful!

Her: I am little, and I am beautiful, but not in a mature teenage girl way.

Me: Well, that doesn't matter, and anyway you're not that little...

Her: Yes I am. Everything about me is little. From my body--

Me: I'm only a C cup.

Her: I don't even have a cup. What's your jean size?

Me: Just a three.

Her: I'm a one. What's your dress and tees size?

Me: I'm only a medium.

Her: I'm an extra-small. Barely. What shoe size do you wear?

Me: I'm just a seven, in women's.

Her: I'm a five, in girls'. See what I mean? I'll always have just a "cute" boyfriend and stuff like that too. My friends will have the "hot" boyfriend.

Me: Yeah, well, I mean...who cares? You're still cool.

Her: Thanks for that, but I'd rather be more than cool. See, you're really pretty. You're gonna have beautiful kids.

Me: So are you!

Her: Yeah, but my kids will be beautiful in a different way. People won't look at my kids and see the beauty right away. The beauty will be inside.

And right then everything she had said to me about how pretty I was and how "hot" my future boyfriend was going to be and how beautiful my kids were going to be didn't seem to be that much of a compliment. Because it was like her beauty and her "cuteness" and everything else mattered more. Like she didn't need to be viewed as a hot mature teenage girl in order to feel valued and important. She already felt her value, without other people giving it to her. And even what she said about her future children--that they were going to be beautiful on the inside. It was like my future kids' outside beauty wouldn't matter--no matter how blue their eyes might be or no matter how clear their skin might be, her kids were going to more beautiful. They'd be writers or artists or photographers, and they'd become beautiful by showing the beauty of others. And that's how she was already beautiful, too. She was always pointing out the beauty of nature and words and people, and in this way her own beauty multiplied.

Yeah, told you it wasn't good and didn't make sense and had no direction but they're just words that came to me out of nowhere and I just had to write 'em down.