What Goes Around (Comes Around)

The Boy

It's interesting, really, the moments that we remember in our childhood. Something completely insignificant can sometimes stand out, or something that may have been huge in the moment quickly fades into the background. Or how someone small in our lives can make such a huge impact. 

It was one of these insignificant moments that shaped the next ten years of my life. I wouldn't count on it, but if you ask me when I'm thirty the exact moment Parker Lovell entered my life I would tell you. 

Parker never did tell me his exact age. I assumed about fourteen, and he never corrected me. Parker was just like me, yet he was my polar opposite; we shared the same ridiculously tangled walnut brown hair, but different eyes. I was perceptive; he could be a bit...dense at times. Parker was shrouded in mystery; he was this box that arrived in the mail with no packaging, the kind you think would have a bomb in it. 

At that time in my life, I needed a bomb. Everything was in this bubble about to implode; I just needed a catalyst. Parker was this catalyst. He was my secret weapon. He was the reason why I kept trying, why I challenged myself, why I chose to speak at the funeral, go to the memorial, and....go to the party. In fact, it was the only party I would go to in my entire high school career. 

See, I wasn't much of a people person. I wasn't a wallflower, I was just....invisible. Being invisible has its perks: nobody notices when you cut in line, or cry in class, or screw up big time. Yet, being invisible is also incredibly lonely. For me, at least, I had no super close friends. It was always my brothers, my computer, and my parents. At one point I was closer to JAVA than my real life friends.

Fun fact: when your brother suddenly dies in a car accident with your dad, suddenly...you aren't invisible. You're the Tragic Girl. You're the girl that might break down in tears in the middle of class. You're the girl who suddenly can't drive alone because she's terrified she might get hit.

I guess it's life-changing experiences like that that force you to see the unseen.