dream a little dream of me

my new years eve was a flop.

when the clock hit twelve and the ball dropped, explosions of wannabe champagne and glitter rose like smoke, and everyone cheered for the new adventures and wonders 2011 would bring. i sat alone and awkwardly, surrounded by strangers in a little pizza joint. dont get me wrong, i had fun. i love my best friend. and the new people i met were amazing, but i wanted to be home, and i wanted to be home right that second. playing "boxers and briefs" with my family, and stuffing my face with mozzarella sticks. i'll admit it, i pouted my little self to bed, and fell asleep defeated.

but the moment i fell asleep, i was up in the clouds.

i'm journaling (blogging) about this, because i'm not that kind of girl. i could care less about lovey dovey crap. this is a rare, RARE occasion. so we need to document it before i think it never happened, and this post is just a big fat lie.

i think we were in your hometown.

somewhere small and desolate. 

you escorted me around in your suit and name tag.
you were still gone, serving.
but you were with me that day.

we drove around, and i kept complaining about how you haven't wrote me back.

you just laughed it off and said you were way too busy.

i gave back a sassy sarcastic comment about how you were just avoiding me.

but you weren't so sarcastic when you responded and promised me you werent.

suddenly we were at your companions house.

he was home, visiting his family, just for the day.

his mom interrogated me with questions.

she asked me if i was your "significant other", which i felt like i was.

but i responded telling her i was just a good friend.

she grabbed my shoulders, looked me dead in the eye, and said.. "GOOD. can you imagine what girls he dates? wild, sassy, LOUD ones. that are just plain crazy."

my first thought was, "did she just borderline insult me? making my best features sound bad."

but then i felt your eyes on me, and i could feel your smile.

and it hit me.

i'm a crazy, sassy little ginger... right?
thats me.

i'm the one he describes when he describes "her".

i've never been so proud to be kendra moberg.

i have no idea who you are, but i can't wait to meet you.