Today’s topic is the same crap people write about all the time, but it’s been weighing on me a lot lately. How a person you once knew and loved can become a stranger to you. How you once let a person know the intimate details about you and your heart and then when you part ways, you can’t get that back. They still know.
JD (The way I’m doing this entry is reminding me of the 13 Reasons Why tapes..)
I can’t remember the exact year I met you. But I know I was 14 or 15. And you were 18 going on 19. I was thin and shy. You were loud and hairy and manly and slightly chubby. I’m not sure what I saw in you. We met at a mutual friend’s birthday party, let’s call him Corey.
I remember watching your stomach jiggle while we were out on Corey’s boat. You smoked, which I hated. You cursed, which I hated. I don’t know why I liked you so much. But I did.
You asked for my number that day, and of course I gave it to you. It was the beginning of a long texting-only friendship.
I remember sending you pictures of myself with my stomach sucked in as far as it could go, and asking you if you thought I was fat. I remember all the flirty and sexy comments you would make even though you refused to date me until I was older. My favorite was when whatever I typed somehow autocorrected to ‘Naked anger’, and you told me that my naked anger was something you wouldn’t mind seeing. I remember staying up all night to text you and talk to you about the most random shit. Lord of the Rings. Red Bull. Books. Your childhood. Anything to keep getting a text from you.
I wanted to know everything about you so I could find something we had in common that we could talk about.
You know I went out and bought a Clockwork Orange because you said it was your favorite? Same with Farewell to Arms.
I downloaded weird music like Horse the Band and Partie Traumatic. I got back into My Chemical Romance and Panic at the Disco.
I still have the music, and I still enjoy it, even if it makes me think of you.
I never did finish Clockwork Orange. You were right, I didn’t like it. I never even read a Farewell to Arms, though I still intend on it.
I liked you off and on for years. You eventually became a close friend, and then my best friend. Then the man I was in love with. Sometimes I wish you still were my best friend.
Now you’re a stranger. The way we’ve talked to each other the last couple times we were in contact still kind of hurts. How could we treat each other so badly after everything?