It took some doing, but I finally managed to work past Ms. Evans’ rejection of me. For one thing, Dalia helped me realize (that is the one time those words will ever be written) that I didn’t have an especially good reason to geek out over Ms. Evans. She seemed cool, but I knew nothing else about her.
And after mulling this over for a time, a second realization dawned on me: if I didn’t really know Ms. Evans, then she didn’t really know me. The Tessa she rejected wears chunky glasses, likes The Doors, and understands James Franco’s art. The Tessa she rejected writes kickin’ poems about her mom with elegant syntax and rhyme structure. But that’s not who the real Tessa is -- I became those things because I thought they would impress her.
Now, don’t worry -- I’m not going to seek out Ms. Evans’ approval now that I’ve realized I just need to be myself to win her over. That ship has sailed and taken a fair amount of my GPA with it. (Am I the first person ever to fail English and PE at the same time? It feels like most people flunk one or the other.) So Ms. Evans is free to continue fawning over Dalia and her opaquely detached voice. I’ve moved on.
Although, not to harp on about this, but really?! Ms. Evans would choose real Dalia over fake me? In what world does that make sense? In what world does it make sense to choose Dalia over anything? Is sullen, soulless apathy really that preferable to faux hipsterism? It’s not, right? I’m not crazy, right? I mean, what does “detached opacity” even mean? Best I can tell, it means disinterested darkness, which actually captures Dalia’s essence pretty brilliantly. So Ms. Evans gets it. She knows what Dalia’s about, and yet she still prefers her to me. Why?! Oh, man -- I gotta go. I’m relapsing.