Andrew
Since I have no life & whenever I don't have anything to do I go online and start reading other people's xanga's, livejournal's, diaries, whatever. I don't know why I do it. Perhaps it's to learn what they know. To see what exactly they talk about & what they think about before they go to bed. You know the stalker things. I'm such a stalker sometimes.
I guess I'm only writing right now because it's rare when I'm moved by what someone wrote. I guess it's rare only because people write about the same damn things every day. School. Boys. Highschool drama. It's interesting but the monotomy of it all makes the novely wear faster than any simile I can think of right now.
I guess it's because I'm jealous because this boy can write & I can't. It all comes down to how he moves me & what it is that he talks about that makes his talent for writing increase. He doesn't drone on and on about the same damn things everyone else does. He doesn't constantly tell everyone "Holler." & "Omg, Julie, I LOVE YOU SOOOOOOOOOO MUCH." & all that jazz. He leaves that kind of thing out. & well, I think I like it. It makes him different from all the normal people that I read everyday.
I know him too. We went to Junior High together and everything. He was such a happy kid. Last time I remember talking to him was probably 9th grade. Then ...poof! Gone. I never knew what became of him. He was excruciatingly depressed last time I spoke to him & I didn't know what to say because I was sad at the time too. & when you are sad you can't make other people happy if you want to. I don't think he is sad or depressed anymore. If he is, well then, he is & there's nothing I'm going to do about it. He doesn't know my name and the the 550 miles seperation is enough to keep me away.
Merry sunshine to gloom doom doldrums to this wise-talented writer.
And I guess people just change. & they change right before your eyes & you notice but you hardly pay attention but when you do ...it hits you like a brick. & it's nice to be reminded.
I'm not sure if I'm jealous or sad or happy or whatever. I just know that he writes well & that I know him. I don't write well anymore and sometimes that bothers me, and well, sometimes, it doesn't.
I'm just trying to be okay with everything. You pretend like the world is okay and that you don't feel anything but normal. But sometimes when you read something that moves you ...you remember what you've been trying to forget.
So many things. So many damn things.
And this is what he wrote & this is why I have to tell you why I feel strange. I don't know where the strange is coming from but it's coming from somewhere. & even when I try to walk away it follows me anyway. So listen. Let me tell you one of the things he said and, well, you can judge for yourself:
Today was eventful like all days are eventful which is to say it was not at all. I had classes and activities and meetings where I learn and teach and begin and end. In the end, though, it's the same as the beginning and no feelings change, just perspective. I've forgotten what I've learned in some classes but what I've learned in others will never leave me. Like sometimes it's okay to be quiet and others it's okay to be loud and there is a happy medium, and it is happy. I will find it.
I had a teacher once who would always step outside to talk on the phone and one day he came back looking very pale. Five minutes later commandos dressed in black and holding guns came in through the window to the school room and took him away while he screamed curses in Japanese. Our substitute was Agent Hernandez and we asked him what happened and he said "Your teacher has just lost his innocence." And then he taught us about trigonometric identities. But I didn't listen because I don't even know what innocence is and I thought it was important. The absence of guilt or the absence of wrong doing or something, I decided. You'd think it couldn't be because innocence seems to be too good of a thing to be the absence of something else but that's exactly how it is. Some people say they've spent their whole lives looking to get their innocence back and they never ever find it because they are not looking for something but trying to erase something and if you write over something, the lines on the paper still exsist. You must use an eraser. Or liquid ink. Or become crazy. Today a man stopped on the sidewalk and wrote with a piece of chalk "Stepping here will cause severe heartache" and drew a circle around it. My friend stepped there as a joke then my friend's girlfriend left him. He was looking for someone to blame and harrass, but couldn't blame the man with the chalk because magic men should not be harrassed he said. So he blamed God and the sky and the weather and life and time and many things that should never be blamed or harrassed because these things are magic too. It doesn't matter anyway. There are only three things that matter most and they are faith, hope, and love and without these nobody is really living. My friend still had faith and hope even if love was gone for a time. I realized once that I had neither faith, hope, or love and then I took handfuls and handfuls of sleeping pills. It might have been then that I lost my innocence, but I can't be sure because it might have just went further away. Things have changed and I am a better man, but I'm still looking to get my innocence back, I think. I think I'm still looking. And until I find it I am a frog prince waiting to be kissed. And all my warts and slime and greeness repulse away most princesses but I think I've found one. Not any woman will do, just a princess, just a beautiful one, and just a kiss. She is the princess of the prarie and beautiful beyond compare.