Write About Me

Chapter Twenty-Six: College Compositions

May 19th, 2009 - Manhattan, New York

Phabiola Fenty.

I held my AP Lit text book walking down the hallways of the NYU campus. Well into my sophomore year of college. I can't believe I'm already twenty years old. So many things I have yet to accomplish. This is so stressing. Running my fingers through my now long sandy brown hair I reared the corner heading into cafe on campus. I just miss Chris. His presence lingers with me everyday. Never a day that goes by do I not think of him. Or his beautiful face, his soul, his skin.. Thoughts of what if ponder my mind constantly. The older I get, the more I realize it was always Chris. It always will be him. This must be the karma I sowed when I did him the way I did. I deserve this feeling. I deserve not being able to have the one I truly need, the one I want. It's bad karma. Sitting at my normal table, I opened my textbook to page one ninety-eight.

"Hey Phabi." Donavan, this kid in my AP Lit class. He's been trying to date me for months.

"'Sup?" I looked up from my text.

"When are you gonna let me take you out on a date? I've been trying to date you for months!" He cracked.

I sighed, closing my textbook, standing up from the table. I was ready to leave.

"Wait-Phabi!" Don called.

"You honestly wanna know why I never take you up on that offer?" I questioned.

"Yes!"

"Try being widowed." I simply stated, walking out the cafe.

It's been four years, and it still gets to me. Sometimes I contemplate leaving this place, just to see Chris again. My attachment to him didn't reign that string until he was taken from me. Leaving me a broken individual. All I yearned for was Chris. To wrap his arms around me, caress me. Let his pillow soft, delicate looking, pink, plump lips serenade mine. Breathing in my soul with our lips tangled in a web of infatuation of eachother. But, who was I to be kidding? Even if he were still alive here today, what makes me think he would even consider that? I'm far too young, not his type, way out of his league. Plus, we're best friends. How could I possibly go from calling him my brother to my boyfriend? Although there was that night..that glorious occasion. He placed his hands, fingers more to say in places he should have never touched. Even with that, it was moreover the fact we were caught up in my innocence and naive soul of unknowing. Nothing more to him. Soon to be later to me, the best thing that ever occurred between us. I found myself meandering to my dorm. Unlocking it, I rushed in my personal space. I had enough to afford the personal dormitory space. Thankful I was. I was so shy to people. Hell Donavan barely gets full conversation out of me.

I threw my book down, walking into my actual bedroom falling into the bed.

"Weed.." I trailed off.

I took off my sack, kicking off my shoes. I think I had a spare pre-rolled blunt in its pocket. Searching for it, I found it. Grabbing Chris' old  liter, it was of his favorite anime character. I lit the blunt, inhaling it's herby fumes. The best kush straight from Barbados. It was so sweet but, filling my lungs. I took drag after drag from it. Eventually my eyes were low. After reaching the bud I singed it out. Laying there in my high, I picked up my notebook and began adding to Write About Me. I was halfway through with the story.

"You're such a fucking jit!" I pushed Chris.

We'd just gotten back from Coney Island after sneaking out. I knew we'd be in a shit load of trouble. Chris always made me feel on edge. We always did something. Whether it was hanging out at the park, at the corner store, going outside the neighborhoods, jumping fences to the better side of Harlem to play in the cleaner parks it was always something. He made sure I stayed occupied. Oblivious to how cruel the real world is. That's why I was so naive for my age as I started to grow more attached to him. I had no clue what was going on.