Week #7
Just a quick little thing I wrote. OH WAIT IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN POSTED A WEEK AGO BUT I’M A FRAUD WHO’S CLEARYL LOSING INTEREST IN THIS BLOG JUST LIKE I SAID I WOULD. OH FUCK, NO, I WAS ENJOYING THIS FOR A BIT. HAVING CREATIVE STUFF ONLINE BESIDES VIDEOS FELT REALLY GOOD.
My comeback will be in the month of November. In the meantime, take two posts as penance.
I spent the first 10 years of my life
in the state of Iowa. The same house was my home those 10 years, and
the same backyard to that house was my best friend’s backyard. We
literally shared the same backyard. We could walk out our back doors
and walk across a stretch of grass to see each other. This may even
be why we were such good friends, after all, our personalities
didn’t mesh.
In retrospect, that boy, Mike, was not
my type. He was into all the trappings of adulthood and manhood and
the gangsta hood, where I was very much content to stay a child
forever. I was a kid who wouldn’t play in the mud because it was
gross, he was the opposite. In elementary school, I played Mario, he
played Call of Duty.
However, as much evidence as there is
to the contrary, I will never doubt that our friendship was genuine.
Because when the day came for my 10 years in Iowa to end, when I
learned I’d have to spent my 11th year in Georgia, Mike was the one
who cried. Not I, the effeminate one, but he, who’s father was the
face of stoicism. I could tell he would have preferred not to show
that kind of weakness, which made it all the more honest that he
would anyway.