Excerpt-style blog post — written in Max’s voice
Here’s what happened:
I wrote a poem.
Well — I wrote part of a poem. Then I panicked. Then I rewrote it twelve times. Then I may have taken some inspiration from a very good poem Raj wrote that wasn’t about Natasha. (Mistakes were made. Eye colors were changed.)
Anyway.
I put the poem in her locker. Quietly. Heroically. Like some kind of romantic ninja with low blood sugar.
And then?
The poem escaped. Like a wild raccoon. It got passed around.
Read aloud. Analyzed. Mocked. Photocopied and put on the back of someone’s geometry test.
By lunch, I was Public Domain.
Did I survive? Technically.
Did I learn anything? Yes.
Mainly that glue sticks are not emotionally supportive. And that poems — like ferrets and secrets — should never be left unattended.
– Max