But To Live Does Not Mean You're Alive (BoyxBoy)

Chapter Seventeen

MIGUEL’S POV

For some reasons I found myself listening to Can’t Hold Us by Macklemore while sitting on the edge of my bed, waiting for lunch to be served. I’ve been hearing so much about this new song, being dubbed to be really awesome and great. Might as well check it out! I realized that those people weren’t actually bluffing. It’s pretty good.

Dad’s at work, as usual. Mom chose to not go to work after finding some recipes online and now she’s so preoccupied by it. Aside from her baking business, that obviously came into existence out from her deep rooted interest in baking, she’s also into cooking just as much. We’re so lucky to have her as Mom. We would never starve for sure.

Raphael came home from college yesterday during dinner. It’s actually really stupid that he insisted getting his own space for college when he only goes to college next town. Next town, but I swear to god it’s not that far from here as it may sound. For all I know, he just wanted to have a shagging place for all of his hoes. But I guess, even if Mom and Dad would know about it, which is a huge possibility if you’d ask me, they could care less for he is doing well. I actually find it amazing how he can be so crazy but makes sure not to fail. 

Gabriel had to stay due to some projects he had to finish. He’s always been the hard worker one. I guess you really should be when you’re at an engineering school. Whenever he comes home it’s not surprising to see him looking like a hobo with unshaved beard. When it comes to food, he seems like he has not eaten real food for quite a time. It’s really amusing to see how both of them have turned out since they went off to college.

I wonder how I would turn out by then. I’m kind off looking forward for it. It’s good to get out of this house and experience the essence of being independent. Kurt and I should attend college together. We could get our own apartment and just be happy about it. Wait, he’s going to major in what? I wonder what he has in mind. I should ask him some time.

As for me, I have no idea. I certainly can’t go with engineering and the like because it would probably kill me even before first semester ends. Maybe Liberal Arts would do just fine. Or maybe a therapist. I can be a therapist. That job must be pretty easy. All you do is sit and listen to your client for an hour or so then get paid. Does it really work that way? Wait, hold on! Why was I getting worked up with this? College is not until two years. I stood up and headed by the window intending to clear my head.

It was a fine Saturday and I had nothing better to do apart from drifting to thoughts about random stuffs. You can take what I did earlier as an excellent example. Oh well, that’s what I decided for. Earlier, Garret, a not so close friend from the basketball team messaged me about a party at someone’s house. I returned him a message, telling him I was not interested.

I have been out of the party scene for quite a while now yet I still constantly get invites. They surely want my presence out there. But sorry folks, I found someone a lot worthier my time and attention than your parties. It sounds sickening already. High school parties are basically the meeting place for popularity seekers, incessantly battling for a place on top. I scoffed at the thought. Sometimes I really wonder how popularity has become the prime commodity of teenage life.

Wait, what? Have I really become this changed? I mean, it only seems like yesterday when I was well, let’s just say my old self. And now not only I can feel it, people have seen that I have become a different person. I would be honored to disprove whoever said that old habits die hard. I could not help but smile from my self-evaluation thought.

I blame Kurt for all of these. Not in a bad way though. Never! This whole change, transformation, make over or whatever it’s called has worked for my advantage ever since. And I could not be more grateful to him. My grades are up and the numbers of trips to detention or office have drastically dropped. Amazing! I guess all people can really change after all. But we can’t make it happen by ourselves. We need some special people to come in and let them do the trick. Magic happens then. “So you’re a Hispanic philosopher now?” I murmured to myself in particular. I smiled a little bit.