*rolls around aimlessly*
Story time? You want a story? I'll give you a story.
Or will I?
Nope. Never mind.
Nope. Never mind.
I went through my documents for about a half hour after writing that sentence trying to find a short story to put here. Instead, I found several Facebook conversations I had copied and pasted into Word, along with several documents merely consisting of my thoughts on one person or another. And most of them, surprise, surprise, revolve around Bryar. And so, since I have no clue what to write about tonight, because I have the worst kind of writer's block tonight (I swear, if this happens in November I'm going to hurt someone), I decided I'd talk about that.
I've noticed that I write a lot of things that are kind of like unsent letters when I'm upset with someone. For example:
I don’t miss you. I miss what we were. I miss the inside jokes, the quiet reassurances, the peace of knowing that there was another person on this earth who understood me. I miss the teasing and the insults, the hugs and the pokes. I miss you scaring me by tipping my desk back and nearly making me fall. I miss you ignoring the fact that I just got done sobbing and making me laugh until I’m crying again. I miss the days when you were dark and brooding and mysterious and then opened up to me and let me understand you even more. I miss the light in your eyes when you were being playful and mischievous. I miss the millions of nicknames you had for me. I miss listening to music with you while you tapped out the rhythm of the drums on my knees. I miss the careless way you shrugged off my compliments, sometimes vehemently denying them but always beaming. I miss meeting your eyes across the cafeteria and exchanging a smile that got me through lunch. I miss feeling and acting like a child around you. I miss ranting to you. I even almost miss the dismissive statements you gave when I got ridiculous. I miss feeling special when you shared your secrets with me. I miss you printing out extra articles for health because you knew I’d forget. I miss you taking the papers I had done well on and writing “suck up” across the top. I miss sitting on the floor of the library with you, not having to talk, just knowing the other’s there. I miss having you as a friend, a brother.I think the reason I do this is partially because of the social anxiety, because I'm so scared to say this type of thing to someone in real life. But it's also because I know if I don't write stuff down, I'll keep thinking it over and over and it won't go away. Which is partially why I blog. And I think the reason so much of it was about Bryar is because he is the most confusing, complex, infuriating, frustrating person I've ever had the misfortune of getting to know. And I don't think I ever really knew him, to be perfectly honest with you. Yeah, I called him my best friend, and I knew stuff about him he said he didn't tell other people, and he knew me better than anyone else, but I didn't really know him. And to be honest, I wish he hadn't known me so well. There's nothing quite like the punch-in-the-stomach feeling of the person who really knows you telling you they can't stand you. And I guess that's why I don't trust people like I did in the days before him. I keep more secrets now. Even Mary and Jake don't know everything about me. There are still secrets I'm keeping from them. I'm just scared. But with everything Bryar is and was, he still appeals to me as a character. I still want to capture him and put him in a story and make my readers love and hate him the way I do. I think he made me feel more extremes in all emotions than anyone else ever has, except maybe Clay. If I wrote a story with a character like Bryar, with the depth and well-roundedness he has in real-life, then maybe I could really feel proud of something.
Song of the Day: "Hum Hallelujah" by Fall Out Boy ("I just wanna be a part of this" "I could write it better than you ever felt it" "I thought I loved you but it was just how you looked in the light" "And one day we'll get nostalgic for disaster" etc.)