Ironic

Remember that oh-so-innocent child I entered middle school as? That little girl, with her lists of what she wants in life, of what she wants in her friends, of what she wants in a guy, in that guy. That little girl grew up and has learned that, ironicly, even though she still wants those same things, she still has the same standards, perhaps a little higher. But ironicly, he has nailed almost every single one of them and I don't want him to. He has faults. Blaringly loud, annoying faults. And he still fits nearly every single one of my requirements for that guy, the guy I want to spend the rest of my life with. And the ones he doesn't fit, it's because we're in high school. Irony: Everything I ever wanted, I'm getting; but it doesn't seem so important to have it right now and I'm not sure I want it any more.