Today, I held the door open for a girl as we were about to walk into class. She hesitated like she didn’t know what I was doing, and, as I smiled as a polite gesture to go on in, she hugged me. An absolute stranger hugged me.
She said, “I’ve been having the worst day ever. Thank you for being how I wish most guys were.”
It was awkward at first. Here I am, just doing the polite thing, and for that I recieved something so tender from someone so hurt. She was so fragile at that moment that she bucked the social norms, and any inhibitions, and brought me into her life with shaking, grateful arms. All because I held the door open for her.
The past few days have been filled with some much needed laughter, and the best company. It’s weird though; I’m so happy around people, but when I’m alone… I can’t help but feel absolutely lonely. I always need to be talking to somebody or else I feel like crap.
I woke up Monday morning feeling so lonely, and then I get a text to hang out from Dhrea. It was such a good day; from the bank, to Party City, to gettin’ Pho’c’d up! HAHAHAHAHA, “How cute is this lookin’ on me Dhrea? Diggin’ it? The Rueben Studdard.”
I do notice, however, that I get pinned into the most awkward situations with girls shouting things that can be misconstrued as sexual innuendos. It didn’t help that we were in a public place this time, and that Dhrea is one of the loudest girls EVER. “RAY! Nooo…. it’s gonna get wet! STOP RAY! Take it out!”
"Harry Potter was a pretty big part of my life, as is my imagination. So sometimes I see myself as certain characters, and right now it’s Harry.
There were times when Harry was absolutely sure of something, some theory he had, or some gut feeling that told him something; and each time he confided such suspicions with Ron and Hermione, they’d both tell him he was wrong, both doubted him. “You… you reckon mate? I denno… just doesn’t seem like that.” “Don’t be silly Harry! Of course it’s not like that!” And then Harry turns out to be right.
That’s what it feels like right now. I’m hoping against hope against it. I want to be wrong, because I don’t want to waste bravery on a situation that will rob me forever of confidence.
Tell me everythings going to be alright. Say it loud and slow, and let my eyes follow your lips as you form each word while I glimpse the tip of your tongue dancing to reassure me. Let my ears bathe in the sweet music of your voice, let it ring through the halls of my mind like Christmas carols, and press warmly into my thoughts like worn church pew seats that have seen faith alive. I’m just saying, to me, words from your mouth are like sleep to insomniacs, the only reason and break in the random chaos of the world. You can just do that to me. Please, don’t ask why because they are the dorkiest reasons anyone could ever have.
I burst randomly into song and don’t notice I’m doing it. This has led to some of the most awkward classroom situations; my AP Art History teacher was lecturing and in between the Venus of Willendorf, and the cave paintings at Catal Huyuk, I guess my sub-conscious thought the chorus of, “Time After Time,” would be appropriate to sing.
Lately, the song has been, “I Remember,” by Keyshia Cole. I was asked politely to stop singing it at the Tech Mall in Grossmont, and people at work asked me why I was singing such a sad song the day after Valentine’s, haha. It’s really weird how I don’t know I’m doing it. How does one subconsciously sing? And why this song of all songs to catch my heart? Lately, I’ve found the lyrics running through my head just before sleeping.
"I remember when my heart broke. I remember when I gave up loving you."
I find it surprising that people come to me for relationship advice. I mean, I feel like, I’d spit how love works as if I were Vanilla Ice. Like if my knowledge of how love works was ammunition, the only fitting gun would be made by Nerf because me, I’ve never had a girlfriend before. I’ve never felt the dynamics of love in motion because that’s one train I have yet to find a ticket to; like, I’ve been on the bus ride to bootcamp, but I get four-tour veterans asking me what the battlefield will be like. And it seems like anything I say about the situation wouldn’t shake the black gates barring you from enlightenment, wouldn’t break the heavy chains holding your heart down, wouldn’t make light in the darkness of space that lays over your eyelids, but somehow it does. And it works even though I’ve never been in love.