To anyone who cares enough to listen,
Like all good things, autumn has to end, and all warmth that is left in the season leaves with it. And winter comes and strips away the leaves that still clung to the gnarled, upturned fingers that are the trees in our front yard; the last survivors fall. Winter has a way of doing that to people too, it turns your spirit and will into a block of ice, then lets it fall from its airborne freedom to a shattering halt on the ground, were you become no more than a lump in the snow.
Wow, I need to cheer up. Sure its winter, I’m going to get a cold, I have to wear silly looking sweaters and I cant go swimming anymore, but at least there’s Christmas to look forward to.
Some times I get like this. I say depressing things, go depressing places, and eat depressing things. Last time this happened was just before Craig and I made out. I think its called loneliness, or low self-esteem, or something. I just know that Craig made it all feel better, until today.
Today Patrick gave Charlie his first secret Santa present. His face was so adorable; confused, but still trying to hide it. He’s so transparent; its like I could look straight into those blue eyes of his, and know every thought he ever thought. Sometimes I wish this wasn’t the case. All those telepathic super heroes that scatter themselves across my childhood, the ones that said smart-ass things right before they beat up the bad guy, and wore lycra suits and flowing capes, I couldn’t imagine being them. Imagine knowing everyone’s opinion on you, never having someone surprise you, for the rest of you life, looking into the eyes of the bad guys, and knowing how much they had suffered, are suffering and will suffer.
Knowing what a person is thinking might be one of the worst curses a person could have.
Not that I am telepathic or anything. Anyone can read Charlie’s mind, as long as he doesn’t say exactly what he’s thinking first. Like when he told me that he thought I was pretty, or when he said he was thinking of me in ‘that way’. He’s an open book.
On the other hand, it sort of nice. I’m tired of secrets, and backstabbing and plastic smiles. The only reason Charlie will ever smile is because he is genuinely happy to see you. There is no guesswork, you don’t have to constantly worry that he actually doesn’t like you at all, or that he’s going to tell all of your little secrets to everyone else.
All I’m going to say is that I am glad I’m not as easy to read as Charlie. That would cause a lot of trouble between Craig and I.
Don’t judge me,
Sam
To anyone who cares enough to listen,
I am stupid. I really, truly am.I’m about as sharp as a marble, not the brightest bulb on the Christmas Tree nor the sharpest tool in the shed. I am a few feathers short of a whole duck. I fell out of the Stupid tree and hit every branch on the way down. I think you get my point.
I kissed Charlie.
It made sense at the time, and I can’t figure out why. It was really just a kiss; sweet, innocent. The problem was the words that were exchanged. I told him to forget about all the things I said to him to push him away and then I told him I loved him.
And the worse part of it was, I meant it. Not in the friendship kind of way either. I like Craig. I told him I loved him once as well, and we kissed on the beach and he believed me, which I think is it all started.
Shouldn’t he be able to tell when the person he loves is lying? Or does he even care? Charlie would have.
Don’t judge me,
Sam
Judy Asman 