Day 3: Your first love
Okay, so I was 18 and full of life. I thought I was in love with him. Looking back, I think it was pure lust. Okay, I know it was. He was older by four years, had dark hair and pale skin. His moon tan made me swoon. He wore skinny jeans before they were cool and Doc Martens that went almost to his knees. It could be 115* outside and he was still in black from head to toe. Not that we ever did much with the sun out. He played guitar and sang me songs, some that were about me. We had tons of fun the couple of months we had together. Lots of fun.
We would take moonlit walks and talk about crazy stuff. He would howl at full moons and kick rocks. I thought he was so bad ass. My mom thought he was weird. my brother thought he was crazy and they were both right. He lived with his mom, she was awesome and real. The closer the time it came for me to leave for boot camp the more erratic his behavior became. The awesomeness of his moods and brooding because stressful. He depression and "deep thoughts" not so endearing when I was the reason he wanted to die. Or as he said "lack of contact would just put him beyond the point of wanting to live."
I sometimes remember him when I smell burning sage or hear a Tangerine Dream song. He was so goth and I was so taken a back.
As fun as it was glad it is over.
yes, he does sound crazy, and wierd.
Posted by: Jimmy | 04/23/2011 at 02:37 PM