Tuesday, January 7th, 2012

You’ve been asking me for what seems to be a decade, “When is it going to be my time? To say it?” Maybe i’ll just keep it simple, or probably just tell you something that’ll make you believe you’re going to get back on track. You keep repeating “how” and “can’t” a lot too. I think to myself all day trying to figure out what you really want, but then I started thinking about what I want. You. You’re leaving me signs on this blank platform, but it never occurred to me you needed help from the one person you’d trusted. Me. I have been there forever, and I’ve always wanted you to just say how you felt. Now i’m realizing that all these years, all you wanted was to get me to figure it out. And maybe I just found the best of you, maybe I just revealed the secret belongings you’ve hidden from me for as long as I can remember, maybe, just maybe I finally found your true self. You, as you are right at this very moment. You, when you make the simplest mistake. You, when nothing ever seems like it can ever go your way. Thats what I like to see. The pure, stupid, naked truth in a dramatically enhanced humans mind, body and soul’s eyes. Face to face, i’ll be right here waiting for you to come and tell me what I know I should’ve heard since day one, cause I know it’s killing you. It’s eating up your thoughts and cramming your brain with clips of our past, present, and future. You & I both know we’ll make it. We’re both being emotionally tortured with the thought of going back to the start, and forgetting this all. This. THIS. What is this? Is this just another one of our minds illusions? No. This is the simple definition of spectacular.

Now it’s turned into Tuesday, tomorrow is a couple hours away. I really don’t want to keep you waiting here without answers that I can’t even get to the bottom of yet. It’s almost like a test, isn’t it? Maybe it’s not me that has to understand the whole thing. Maybe it’s you. Maybe we’re not supposed to figure it out. Maybe we just have to let this whole thing go on. Just maybe, let this be. Screw reality, i’d take our hypnotic mind games over it any day. You & Me. Just be. 

Both you and I know that we’re in this together, till the end. Even if it mean loosing you, i’d still do whatever i can to make you stay. You are the best of me. In the end, who knows maybe the best of me isn’t you. Maybe its a tree, or a rock. Anyhow, I’d prefer you over any stupid tree or rock that comes my way cause then i’d know i’d be able to face anything. Nothing would matter to me until i got to take you out. You’re probably all that I’d want. 

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Three days have passed. I haven’t heard from her since the seventh. Is this a sign? I mean, she is going away to college soon, and me, i’m just that kid that has the title of being her one any only best friend. What a great honor, right? It’s probably better than being named the queen of england every oh i don’t know-40 years? Maybe this ‘title’ is just a title. What if she’s hooking up with some other guy in town? Maybe it’s Grainer Adam’s.. all the girls in school automatically drop on their knees for this guy. I mean.. Alyssa could find him.. no. What is this coming to? 

A few hours have passed and all I could even think about was, “Grainer.. Alyssa… Alyssa Angie Adams…” and how it would be prefect cause she always said how much she enjoyed alliteration. Shit. I’m going to fuck everything up just thinking about this. Wait what do I even mean by that? What is ‘this’? While tuning into my thoughts for about a good 45 minutes, the dumb ass I am didn’t realize I was starting to spill the green gooey shit that smelled almost like Davie Jones’s locker all over my new high-rise pants. Lenny rucks sped up to me after class and said “you’re not even smarter than a dog”. I don’t know if that was his way of insulting me, or just trying to make a ‘funny’ joke. That made me think more though, If dogs are quite smarter than we portray them as, then how is it that they get scared of the fact they can’t catch their own tail. For all we know, it’s like a whole other gravitational force that has planted itself onto it’s own ass.