Dear Diary

Day 18

Someone who fascinates you

Dear Diary,
There are so many people who I think about on a daily basis.
Even more whom I admire.

But there are very few people who make me wonder, who pique my interest.

In short, there are very few people who fascinate me.
One of them being Alan Parker.

Me and Alan have been studying together since junior high but just like many other people, we have never spoken.
He's in my English and music class.

Alan has blue hair, he's Asian and has a tattoo on his left bicep, although I've only ever gotten a glimpse of it.

Alan piques my interest because he's like a dusty old book sitting in some corner of a library.

He's so secretive that you can easily mistake his exterior as being all there is to him.
But I know there's more.

Once I was early to cheerleading practice and I found Alan alone in the court, sitting by the bleachers.
Before he noticed my presence, he was singing 'Believer' by Imagine Dragons and I swear to God, my body felt like a carpet of goosebumps.

When Travis died, Alan was one of the first people to come to me.
He brought me flowers, sat with me and talked to me.
He told me that he and Travis were actually friends, which I did not know but which did not surprise me either because I've realized that I never really knew Travis.

One thing that made me respect Alan more is that he told me that if I had anything to say to Travis, I could tell him since he often visits his grave and he knows that I can't go there.

Alan is a genuinely sweet person, one of the many under rated kids.

Sometimes when I see him sitting alone during lunch, I want to go and talk to him and ask him why isolation is his best companion.

I want to ask him how isolation sings melodies to him while all it does to me is scream till my ears bleed.

However, there is an invisibility bubble around him.
It's so tangible that you can feel like you're invading his personal space, anytime you step near his table.

Sometimes my tongue aches to ask him why he so skillfully covers his pain with nothingness.

Then again, I remember that I do the same.

I've realized that all humans are partially made of pain. The rest of us is what we decide for it to be, we can choose happiness, guilt or just plain old nothingness.

Some of us are just better at hiding the pain than the rest of us.

I guess there are so many stories that are as much, if not more horrible, than mine, in Oakwood high.

There are so many other voices that are suppressed by society.
So many other brains screaming to be heard.

I want all these voices to rise, all these brains to explain.

I want all these people, including me, to choose happiness as our other part.