A/N: I just finished this and I was proud and that pride faded quickly.
Word Count: 1007
They've always said I have a way with words. I'm not exactly sure what that means, but they always say it's a good thing, that my poetry's good. I don't know if they're telling the truth, why would they anymore? I can't trust anyone. It's how I'm built. No trust for the people I'm surrounded by. I've never understood that, but maybe I'm not supposed to understand. To be fair, I don't understand much. I'm not the smartest kid you'll meet, but I'm still classified as a 'nerd'. But apparently my "Way with words" makes up for all that. Forced smiles while handing over my papers, non-exsistant happiness for the praise. My writing's my escape, it fills the void. Helps me clean up the darkness. That's all I need. My paper and pen are best friends. They think the stories I tell are fake, the statements merely white lies. No understanding, but then again it's better that way. It's better to fly under the radar, stay out of sight. But It's all I've ever known. The soothing sound of pen on paper and the feeling of being alone. Maybe that's why I always enjoy being alone. Maybe that's why I always enjoy it, It's all I've ever known. I don't know love. I don't know friendship, I don't know commitment to anything other than the writings. I want to though. I want to know something new. Anything. I want to know what actual friendship feels like, all I've known is the companionship of written words and that's enough for now. But soon it won't be, It won't be enough not to have any human affection. I need love or the stories will grow shorter and the days will grow longer. I can't do this on my own, But I wish I could. Could just stay all alone and feel utterly content. And that's exactly when I decided that I needed to be more alert of the people around me, create some human interaction. I slowly noticed more throughout the days. I noticed a lot and became quite fond of a particular person. Phil Lester. I quickly figured out where he ranked on the social ladder. He was at the top, the guy all the girls want, and I can see why. He had gorgeous black hair that contrasted perfectly with his pale complexion. He was maybe 6'2 and was the quarterback of the football team. He was also stunningly perfect and a straight A student. He seemed to even get on with all the teachers. In a sense, on a scale of one to ten, he was a 95. I on the other hand would be lucky if I was ranked as a 4, I wasn't noticed by anyone, other than if they wanted to read my writings, got in trouble constantly, and failed every class. I'd be lucky if I pass high school on time. I also wasn't much to look at, and to top it off I'm gay. Woo, I'm the ultimate target, but My way with words helps me out in life. No bullying, ever. I get to pass through life as a loner instead. Which is a lot better, but still isn't good enough. I need a friend. Just one person to stay by me. That's all. And I hoped I could find one, and maybe just maybe, land a date with Mr.Lester. That is, If he's gay. I need to find out, Pay just a bit more attention and gain a friend. Those are my goals for the next few months.
I've been observing the beautiful boy a lot more, and the more I watch the more he sparks my interest. And guess what, He's gay! I also managed to score me a friend, which Is great because now I have someone to talk to so I can learn more about the people around me. His name's Chris by the way. He's really nice, a bit of a nerd,and has a really pretty Girlfriend named Ellie. He says no matter how hard I try I'll never managed to get a date with the jock of my dreams (which I think is a bit harsh, but he's my only friend so I let it slide.) I've learned a lot about Phil too, other than the fact that he likes guys. He's two years older than I am, which is just fine with me, but lowers my chances by about 45%, He may or may not quit football before college, and has no specific type, or at least no one knows whether he does or not cause he's only publicly dated girls ( which were usually cheerleaders) I've been writing a lot more than I used to believe it or not. I write love stories, but mainly write poems like I used to. I still get people praising me, but never have any of them been Phil. Why, I don't know, but that's not the matter at hand. I want to keep writing, but all this paying attention and having friends has taken away most of my time for it. That's why the stories have grown shorter. I can't believe I've pushed aside my hobby, my love, my passion. My pen and paper are always unoccupied and that concerns all my teachers. And at times it worries me. I don't know how I've managed to completely flip my life upside down within a matter of months (3 and a half of 'em) and still remain dull and empty on the inside. It hurts. I know friendship now, but not love. And love is truly what I crave, I crave to feel adored to drown in love and make up for what my parents withheld from me for sixteen years. And I'm guessing I'm probably going about doing so the wrong way, but I've put this much time and effort into it that I can't just give up. I need to see what will happen and for some odd reason this feels like my destiny.
originally written in November 2013
