2005-08-06
kleenex stock just skyrocketed
get out the damn tissues if you read through this one. that is, if you're a human being and have feelings. if you happen to be a robot, well then, you probably can't read anyway. go spam the president.
throughout this summer, i have felt like something was...missing. i didn't know what it was because usually in summer i tend to forget to do certain things or see certain people. but this summer, being such a crucial one in my mind i really felt like a part of me was missing. last night i figured it out.
tent-boy. i hadn't really hung out with tent-boy. if you haven't been keeping track, tent-boy is my best friend. my compadre. he's my francois mitterand and i'm his margaret thatcher. we're nothing alike but we're great together. together we could probably stop crime and solve poverty issues throughout the world[ehh. ok maybe that's a tad far] bottom line is that he gets me, and i get him and that's about all that matters in a friendship. that's what makes us work.
who else but tent-boy would ever think to start calling me margaret thatcher? probably nobody. who else but tent-boy would open up and share his poetry with me on the forensics bus? no one. who would understand and help feed my barnes&nobles addiction? set up my template? help me with geometry? feed me shrimp salad? watch firefly with me? burn me french cds? pick me up five blocks away from work to save me from walking home? not laugh at my clay aiken obsession? walk with me to buy choco tacos because i am craving ice cream? save me from a sporting event at a rival highschool? sing karaoke with his ex girlfriend? make home movies with me? show me maribel caves? take so many photos of me even when i'm not looking my best? turn around and pick me up even when he's halfway out of town? take me to book signings? expand my world knowledge? let me boss him around? not crumble when he sees my weak side? let me get angry? drive past the boy i like's house to see if he's home? dorm shop with me at wal-mart at twelve in the morning looking for poster tack? no one. not a single goddamn person except for tent-boy.
all through childhood i probably picked on tent-boy more than any child should. but the truth was that i hid behind this sarcastic exterior because at home i was being unmercifully torn into. it's the only way i knew. and it's the only way i practiced. some targets were just easier i suppose. tent-boy was one of those targets. i was no prize. i was runty and small and brainy and to be honest; i was picked on too. but i always gave it back. and tent-boy, well tent-boy never did anything to make me hate him or pick on him. he was the victim and he took the brunt of it all.
i honestly thought i knew all about him. i thought i knew that he was just another brainy reject who didn't play with the other kids. he didn't try to fit in. he was smart, he read too much. he tried too hard on even his art assignments. he bugged me and my friends all the time. when everyone was on the playground after lunch, i can't honestly remember who he was with or what he was doing. this was middle school and i had other things to worry about. like if my braces made me even more of a stand-out or if i was skinny enough to fit into my MUDD jeans.
i was the bitch who thought she was too good for everyone and i knew it. but it was really because deep inside i was starving for attention. my grandmother had just died, my parents split up. my mother could hardly get out of bed somedays. my father was not there. i was twelve and on my best days i was depressed, so i fought back. tooth and nail i became aggressive. adapt. it's the irish way. don't you dare cry. crying is for dorks. i am sure that during this time i made tent-boy cry and if he had only then how much that made me cry harder at night, we'd have been friends sooner i am sure.
we're coming to the end of our journey together. it's the end of the road. he leaves for college on the 20th. and all i've been thinking about is paul leaving on the 14th. [heh. paul that hardly returns my phonecalls and shows he cares by not getting back to mine until it's too late.] but there's always tent-boy. and he's there even when he's not available. there are phrases that only he gets. when i'm random and everyone is looking at me thinking i'm losing it, i keep thinking 'tent-boy' would get it. he'll share the joke later.
but after the 20th there won't be a later. i'm moving six hours away from home. there's a pulling apart. it hurts to feel the strain start to break in where it doesn't belong. not now. come back later, time. leave us for now, reality. take a cigarette break or something. we need more time. i have so much time to make up for. all those years of hatred and foul words. i need that time back. so when i think about the 20th, i get a little sick. my stomach turns and my eyes tear. and when we hung out last night/this morning it hit me so hard i thought perhaps i was still in the ocean in florida fighting the waves to look at the fish and this was all a dream.
it's not a dream. he's leaving. i'm leaving. this town is becoming like a water color painting that hasn't had time to dry. it's fading and running together with my tears. and in the middle of the painting, there are two figures with their arms around each others' middles. they're smiling and they're oblivious that everything is melting around them. the sky is falling, buildings are bleeding into each other, and their hair has turned blue from the color of the bright summer sky. the clouds are dripping out of their eyes.
tent-boy. you and i are friends forever. it's not a lie, or a joke, or a cliche thing to say to cover up ulterior motives and bad feelings. we will always have diarywhores. you'll be the first person i call when i settle in. we'll map the drive and you can start at point 'a' only to meet me in the middle where I've hitched a ride on a star from my point 'b'. you're every random phrase i utter. i'm probably every accent you hear. you're in every poem i'll read. i'm in every silly punk song you'll hear. you're in every moment when i'm myself. i'm in every moment when you're feeling vital and loved.
because you are loved tent-boy. you've made it through so much kiddo. and your life is so bright that everyone will finally see you've arrived.
time is short, but with you it's precious.
quote of the day:"we're in wal-mart and it's midnight!"-[tent-boy]--we were there until at least one...insane
french phrase de jour:attention, elle fait du karaté!(ah-tah(n)-syoh(n) ehl feh dew kah-rah-teh!)Watch out, she knows karate!--yeah and i know kung fu crazy...