clearly you guys actually enjoy hearing about my chaos causing ways hehe okay so this story has a little bit of a backstory, so we'll start with that. okay so last year, a few months into the school year, I was on the bus, and we were picking up another bus route. And little did I know that this would be something that changed the school year entirely. (the drama the tea) I hadn't really been paying attention, until these two boys who were clearly besties got on the bus. And the only reason I noticed is because the taller looked almost exactly like Christian Bale when he was in Newsies. So in my opinion, really, really, REALLY hot. And me being me, I wanted to find out his name. So I went to the library and found the yearbook from the year before, since he's a grade ahead of me. Didn't find him there. So I used what I knew to see if I could figure it out. Grade ahead of me. Baseball player. Messy, middle parted hair. Looks REALLY similar to Christian Bale. So this is when I first talked to the librarian. (just saying, the only reason everyone started talking to her was because I was the first person who did. no one has said thank you) The librarian was (and still is) really sweet, so she helped me out with figuring out his name. About a month later, we knew his name. Imma refer to him as CJD because those are his initials Now blah blah blah, the year goes on. I visit the library everyday, and see him everyday because I went down his grade's hallway to get to the library. (uhh, side note, there was this time I was walking, and then I saw him become Jack Kelly from Newsies (played by Christian Bale) because he faked punched his friend loll) Okay, TIME SKIP. It's now late May, early June. We had just gotten our yearbooks. Keep in mind, CJD, didn't know who I was, so it'd be weird if I asked him to sign it. So instead, I asked the librarian to do it for me. I still have that yearbook. And his signature... IS RIGHT BY HIS FACE. EEEEE Okay. Now I can tell the actual story bahahaha THAT WAS JUST THE BACKSTORY REHEHE anygays so it's what, April of this year. I see CJD, and he's got this hot pink cast on his wrist. (headcannon that his favorite color is pink btw) So I (of course) want to know what happened. (he apparently hyper-extended his thumb because of someone sliding into base at baseball) Okay another time skip. It's early May now, and I hear that he got his cast off. And here is exactly what I said. "YAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY HIM AND HIS MUSCULAR FOREARMS ARE NOW FREE" and that is where I will leave you!! comment for another part I don't know why I said that I literally have a crush on someone else *awkward face*
chatgpt's version: This story does, in fact, have the exact energy of somebody accidentally beginning a year-long cinematic obsession because a guy got on a bus looking like young Christian Bale. And honestly? That is how the best stories start. --- It began, as most disasters do, on a school bus. Not even my bus route, technically. We were picking up another group of students because transportation was apparently held together by duct tape and optimism. I wasn’t paying attention at first. I was probably staring out the window dramatically like the main character in an indie coming-of-age film. Then *he* got on the bus. Actually, correction. *They* got on the bus. Two boys laughing together like they’d known each other since birth, shoving each other’s shoulders and talking too loudly. But one of them— One of them looked almost exactly like Christian Bale in *Newsies*. Like, suspiciously similar. Messy middle-parted hair. Same grin. Same energy like he was about to leap onto a table and start singing about labor rights. I saw this man for approximately four seconds and immediately thought: *Oh no.* Because I am, unfortunately, predictable. Now, most people would simply think, “wow, attractive person,” and continue living peacefully. I, however, decided I needed to know his name like it was a federal assignment. So naturally, I went to the library. This was the beginning of everything. The librarian was incredibly sweet, and at the time basically nobody talked to her regularly except me. Which I still think deserves historical recognition, by the way. Everyone else eventually caught on to how nice she was, but I was an early investor. Anyway. The investigation began. What did I know? * Grade above me. * Baseball player. * Messy hair. * Looked like Christian Bale if Disney Channel had gotten ahold of him. Somehow, through determination and increasingly questionable detective skills, we figured out his name about a month later. I’m calling him CJD because dignity must survive somewhere in this story. Now the thing about having a hallway crush is that once you notice them, they begin appearing *everywhere*. I visited the library every day, which unfortunately required walking down his grade’s hallway. Tragic, really. There were sightings. Moments. Incidents. Like the time I watched him fake-punch his friend and suddenly transform fully into Jack Kelly from *Newsies*. Same mannerisms. Same chaotic theater-kid energy despite being an athlete. I nearly evaporated on the spot. Then came late May. Yearbook season. Now, logically, asking him to sign my yearbook would’ve been weird because this man did not know I existed beyond “random girl in hallway probably.” So instead, I did something objectively funnier. I asked the librarian to get his signature for me. And SHE DID. To this day, I still have the yearbook. And his signature— his actual signature— is right beside his picture. Which felt less like ink on paper and more like winning a war. Anyway. FAST FORWARD. April of this year. I see CJD walking through the hallway wearing a hot pink cast on his wrist. And immediately I become invested. Because first of all: Hot pink. Second of all: Mysterious injury. Third of all: The mental image of a baseball player choosing neon pink was so powerful that I instantly decided pink was now his favorite color. No evidence required. Apparently he hyperextended his thumb because someone slid into base during a game. Athletics. Violence. Drama. Wonderful. Then came early May. The cast was gone. Freedom had arrived. And when I was informed of this life-changing update, my response was immediate, heartfelt, and deeply embarrassing. “YAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY— HIM AND HIS MUSCULAR FOREARMS ARE NOW FREE.” Which, honestly, might still be one of the funniest sentences I’ve ever produced as a human being. Not because it was incorrect. But because it sounded like I was announcing the release of a political prisoner.
