I stare at him through the glass, into his deep, empty, black eyes. No signs of remorse completely void of emotion. He just sits in his steel folding chair looking at me. It seems like an odd price to pay, damnation for petty revenge. Revenge is to strong even. I had no control over it, and I did everything I could to stop it, change it, reverse it, and take it upon myself instead. I loved her too, I lost her too. It’s funny really, that he would blame me. She was on her way to his house. That was the longest three days of my life. I guess he blames me for her death because I was holding her hand when she passed. He couldn’t take that I was there and he wasn’t. I was holding her hand when she passed and he was asleep in the foyer. He loved her so much too; I don’t know how he was able to leave her side, even for a moment. I suppose her love is what kept me there and not him.
I kick and pound on the walls around me. I punch at the ceiling but nothing moves, it just shortens the little time I have left. He pulls a gun from behind his chair and points it at me and then himself. His emotionless face twists. What was empty is now filled with guilt. Not for what he is doing to me, but for what he has done to himself. His longing for her is too great and the wait is too long. The hammer drops and his eternal wait for comfort is abruptly ended. It seems mine will be has as well. I take a deep breath and my lungs fill with the cold water that surrounds me and I fade into black. I waited for my life to flash before my eyes. It is a wait that will never end.
Saturday, September 5, 2009
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
I believe in the Best Day Ever.
I believe in the Best Day Ever.
The Best Day Ever would start at the midnight showing of 9. It would then be followed by an Early Seminary session at 6:00 am, where I will study the Book of Mormon, the keystone of my religion. From there I would travel directly to school, during which I would leave campus for lunch and pick up my preordered copy of Rock Band: The Beatles. The return to school will hold my favorite class followed by an early release. At that time I will go home and play my new game with my best friend and long time crush, Emily, while we make sushi until the time comes for us to go to the Post Secret display. This is my plan for September 9, 2009. Planning ahead for days like these is what makes life worth living, but they can also be the worst thing that could happen to a guy my age.
The Best Day Ever is a landmark for me, a symbol of the time. The key to events like this is an ancient and unperfected tradition of a gambler. The only way to achieve a true Best Day Ever is to go all in. No expense is too great, no risk is too high, and you must stick to the plan regardless of parental permission. Our absorbent, yellow and porous friend sets the example of a flawless Best Day Ever. It is not the plan the makes a day the best ever but what happens apart from it. The possibility that seminary is canceled and I escape sleep deprivation, or the chance that Emily likes me too. The improbability that makes a flawed plan so perfect is what defines the Best Day Ever.
My latest Best Day Ever involved ditching school on a Friday, driving four hours to Myrtle Beach and home again so a girl that I barely new could join us for a Halloween party Saturday evening. What made it a Best Day Ever is the drive back to Myrtle Beach Sunday night and home again to a arrive an hour before school started. The reaction of this drastic event among my peers was frightening, and the wrath of my parents when they found out was unlike anything I had seen before. I didn’t see daylight for months following this Best Day Ever. It was a perfectly flawed plan that led to one of the worst days of my life, but made me a hero among the adolescence.
I believe in the Best Day Ever. There is no moral justification. It doesn’t life changing theories. It is solely the expectations of immediate satisfaction, complimented with legendary aftershock.
The Best Day Ever would start at the midnight showing of 9. It would then be followed by an Early Seminary session at 6:00 am, where I will study the Book of Mormon, the keystone of my religion. From there I would travel directly to school, during which I would leave campus for lunch and pick up my preordered copy of Rock Band: The Beatles. The return to school will hold my favorite class followed by an early release. At that time I will go home and play my new game with my best friend and long time crush, Emily, while we make sushi until the time comes for us to go to the Post Secret display. This is my plan for September 9, 2009. Planning ahead for days like these is what makes life worth living, but they can also be the worst thing that could happen to a guy my age.
The Best Day Ever is a landmark for me, a symbol of the time. The key to events like this is an ancient and unperfected tradition of a gambler. The only way to achieve a true Best Day Ever is to go all in. No expense is too great, no risk is too high, and you must stick to the plan regardless of parental permission. Our absorbent, yellow and porous friend sets the example of a flawless Best Day Ever. It is not the plan the makes a day the best ever but what happens apart from it. The possibility that seminary is canceled and I escape sleep deprivation, or the chance that Emily likes me too. The improbability that makes a flawed plan so perfect is what defines the Best Day Ever.
My latest Best Day Ever involved ditching school on a Friday, driving four hours to Myrtle Beach and home again so a girl that I barely new could join us for a Halloween party Saturday evening. What made it a Best Day Ever is the drive back to Myrtle Beach Sunday night and home again to a arrive an hour before school started. The reaction of this drastic event among my peers was frightening, and the wrath of my parents when they found out was unlike anything I had seen before. I didn’t see daylight for months following this Best Day Ever. It was a perfectly flawed plan that led to one of the worst days of my life, but made me a hero among the adolescence.
I believe in the Best Day Ever. There is no moral justification. It doesn’t life changing theories. It is solely the expectations of immediate satisfaction, complimented with legendary aftershock.
Think about your best friend.
Think about your best friend.
My best friend is Emily. When we first met we were fourteen. She was the opposite of me in almost every way. I liked to hike in the forest. Emily was afraid of nature, and all the bugs that came with it. She liked to read in her room. I cringed at that horrible, single syllable word, book. Emily was quiet, shy, obedient, and had never talked to a boy other than her brother. I was loud, outgoing, rebellious, and had nothing but girls on my mind since I was twelve. We were on very different paths but they were both heading to becoming anti-social.
After a duration of about ten months with a bitter distaste for each other because of complete clash of interests, the lights turned on. My eyes had opened to a new world, where I realized that everything she did was incredible. The books she read were interesting, her sense of humor was paramount, and most important thing was her eyes. A silly freshman crush shaped what we do and think today.
Over the next few years Emily and I have had out up and down. I was driven by the spirit of adventure. Never satisfied with my destination, I always kept pushing boundaries and going further beyond reason. I was constantly searching for greener pastures. Emily’s life was dull and slow in comparison, but she glowed with happiness. I learned so much from her, and she from me. The best of times brought us closer together emotionally, but it was the worst of times that brought our personalities together and molded them together. I struggled with depression for several months and Emily was there for me all the way. She taught me how to find comfort in what I had, and that greener doesn’t always mean better. Through these times I brought her to places she had never been before. I showed her beauty in nature and freedom in risk. As I rose out of my depression the lessons we learned from one another became engraved into who we are.
Emily and I are now seventeen. We are still the opposite in a few ways but the same in many, many more. I still go on hikes but Emily joins me. Emily still reads her books, but I read them with her. Emily is still quiet but no longer shy. I am still outgoing but no longer loud. Emily dates other guys, and I am only interested in one. We were on very different paths but now it is very much the same, heading toward a future build on contradictions. At least, this is what I believe.
My best friend is Emily. When we first met we were fourteen. She was the opposite of me in almost every way. I liked to hike in the forest. Emily was afraid of nature, and all the bugs that came with it. She liked to read in her room. I cringed at that horrible, single syllable word, book. Emily was quiet, shy, obedient, and had never talked to a boy other than her brother. I was loud, outgoing, rebellious, and had nothing but girls on my mind since I was twelve. We were on very different paths but they were both heading to becoming anti-social.
After a duration of about ten months with a bitter distaste for each other because of complete clash of interests, the lights turned on. My eyes had opened to a new world, where I realized that everything she did was incredible. The books she read were interesting, her sense of humor was paramount, and most important thing was her eyes. A silly freshman crush shaped what we do and think today.
Over the next few years Emily and I have had out up and down. I was driven by the spirit of adventure. Never satisfied with my destination, I always kept pushing boundaries and going further beyond reason. I was constantly searching for greener pastures. Emily’s life was dull and slow in comparison, but she glowed with happiness. I learned so much from her, and she from me. The best of times brought us closer together emotionally, but it was the worst of times that brought our personalities together and molded them together. I struggled with depression for several months and Emily was there for me all the way. She taught me how to find comfort in what I had, and that greener doesn’t always mean better. Through these times I brought her to places she had never been before. I showed her beauty in nature and freedom in risk. As I rose out of my depression the lessons we learned from one another became engraved into who we are.
Emily and I are now seventeen. We are still the opposite in a few ways but the same in many, many more. I still go on hikes but Emily joins me. Emily still reads her books, but I read them with her. Emily is still quiet but no longer shy. I am still outgoing but no longer loud. Emily dates other guys, and I am only interested in one. We were on very different paths but now it is very much the same, heading toward a future build on contradictions. At least, this is what I believe.
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