I need to keep repeating and reiterating and recycling the notion that the only reliable dude in my life is my brother. I mean, Peterbilt.. maybe when it comes to reliable biting. But dude-wise.. who else will pick me and my drunk friends up from a bar at 4:08am.
I think people are too shady for their own good. I had this epiphany of honesty that I just can't shake as of late. It's amazing because I'm not hurting anyone and I refuse to let myself be legitimately hurt. Ever. I will save that hurt for real life because from now to 30 means nothing.. nothing but fun. Even friends.. I completely refuse to be vulernable, yet I make myself socially vulernable.. doesn't make outward sense, but to me it does.
Anyhow, I spent the past hour calling awkward memories from home. Leaving ridiculous voicemails regaling old stories of love and lust and middle school wishes. I miss Derek? I miss Derek. A statement, I think. A moral question, sure. But a fucking statement none the less. I try to brush it off when I hear that I ruined his life. When I hear that I'm the reason he is sooo FUCKED UP. Come on. I loved you since 6th grade and you felt the same and never mentioned it, yet blamed me. Never have I met anyone who made me laugh like he did.. where my insides and outsides ached from a joyous feeling of pure innocent bliss. From giggling outrageously to sitting in silent understanding... we fucking got eachother from day one. Whenever my mom would talk about marrying someone and what it meant I still pictured Derek dangling from a scaffolding we used to paint our Impressionistic piece of art on the hallway in Alden. He did it because he wanted to make me laugh.. forever. Like anyone should. Like I hope anyone I'd want to spend a significant amount of time with. Yet I have not felt anyone who was crazy over my happiness like that yet. I guess I should chalk it up to a childhood memory that is exaggerated with tree climbing and blood brother's oaths, but who knows. I don't fucking know.
Fuck.. I don't even want to know anymore.
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