He was the prime example of an actual blue boy. Undercut, portable speaker, and a whole list of raw stories that could make you question your own life. I didn't think about him for a whole five months until the weather changed. You know people that change attitudes really fast because of certain colors, temperatures, smells, or feelings. Perhaps that is just me, but when it happens everything I see and feel completely turn sideways. Anyways, it was overcast. That's it. I could tell the sky wanted to rain; however, it didn't. This simply reminded me of the day in the summer, the ones I like to refer to as the runaway days. That particular day the clouds made everything dark, and the rain poured down so heavily followed by hail. Of course us being careless and down minded we would just sit in that rain and found it to be an opportunity of something new and interesting in our average sunshine days. I was sad, I was so so sad. He was sad, he was so so sad. Suicide sounded like a retreat. It gave me happy butterflies in my stomach like the day I first met her. Both a mixture of her and previous attempts took me to this dark place. Suicide was something new and somewhat safe. Ironic, right? I remember us standing in the middle of that newly paved cement outside of my job staring up at those crackling clouds for what felt like no time but was probably forever. I wish I could go back and capture the feeling of those days, sometimes I get these fast glimpses of them. Every period of my life has a feeling and smell. I truly can't describe it, but when I get these instantaneous feelings it takes me back and floods over me. I wish I could drown in it. It was pouring so loud it was hard to hear each other. The only reason he met me there was so we could plan our suicide together. I remember two months earlier when the cops showed up at all of our houses asking about a suicide pact. Of course I was shocked, but what could I expect it's all I ever thought of. Suicide and her. When he got there he acted like we were just hanging out, which truly aggravated me because I had those excited feelings in my belly about where I would be next. He shoved the thought aside and made the excuse that he was only there to stop me from doing it. I know that is not why he came, he came for that reason. That is the end of the story, it's really pointless and short; however, so much led up to me being in that moment. Addiction and heartbreak brought me there, and irrational decisions which I am best at. Now the blue boy is gone. I thought a lot about you this week. I am not sure if you are alive, safe, happy, or whatever. I have seen the face of suicide far to many times, and am starting to come to a realization that romanticizing it is wrong, even though it still gives me the butterflies.
