The Blue Boy

Love Is Hard

"I hate this," I mutter to myself as I put small bandages on my knuckles. They stick on my hands in weird angles, but it doesn't matter.

I'm debating whether or not to visit Larry today, but I decide not to.

I send him a text and say that I'm not feeling so good as I flop back onto my bed. Despite the shit quality of the bed, it feels like I'm sinking.

It's really unsettling, but not the worst so I try to block it out. I try to block everything out.

My phone buzzes.

"you want me to come up there with some of moms soup?" -Larry

I try to smile, but I can't. I tell him no and that I'd see him tomorrow.

. . . .

I can't fucking stay here. This is driving me crazy! My mind is full of all these fucking thoughts and they won't. Go. AWAY. I need to talk to someone.

Before I even realize what I'm doing, I notice that I'm standing outside of Todd's apartment door.

I hesitate to knock, but eventually I do.

I had met Todd's parents the other day when I met everyone living here, so I hope they remember me.

Todd's dad answers the door, smiling, obviously high off of his fucking mind. "Hey, Sally," he greets me, opening the door so I can come in.

"Is Todd home?" I ask with my voice shaking. He nods and points to his room.

I mess with my pig tail as I knock on his door. It's a nervous tic of mine that I can't shake.

I hear the door unlock and Todd comes into my view. He looks confused then smiles. "Oh, hey Sal," he pushes up his glasses, "want to come in?"

I nod and step into his room. I imagined it to be clean, but this is ridiculous. Everything was color organized and neatly arranged. On his desk was an unfinished robotic thing that he was working on.

He leads me to sit on his bed and he looks at me expectantly.

"I can't think straight," I tell him, "...almost literally," I push my bangs out of my face.

He smiles then turns serious. "I figured you would know how to help since...y'know," he nods.

I spill my thoughts to him about everything that happened--or what I thought happened. It ends with me crying and almost ripping my hair out.

He listens without making me feel selfish, which is great right now.

When I'm finished venting to him, I'm practically in a ball rocking back and forth.

"I don't know much about how to comfort people," he starts, laying his hand on my shoulder, "but I can tell you what you probably already know,"

I nod and blink away the tears that has formed.

"You like Larry," he has a shit eating grin, but it's comforting in a way.

I smile but it fades away quickly. I feel so empty now, it feels forced but...it's not.

"But I don't have him," I whisper under my breath, scratching at my hand harshly. "I love him..."

"I'm just shocked as to why you aren't spending time with him now," He pushes his hair back. "You guys seem almost glued together,"

I shrug and accidentally pull some strands of hair out, wincing.

Todd pulls my hands away from my hair and looks at me with a concerned face. I look away and subconsciously slouch over.

"I would suggest that you so spend more time with him, see if he reciprocates the feelings," He thinks for a second, "Maybe tell him things about you so you two can get closer?"

I laugh dryly, "I've already done that when we're high,"

He rolls his eyes but smiles.

I reach in and hug him. He hesitantly hugs back and rubs my back.

I soon pull away and sniffle. "Thanks for this, dude,"

"It's not a problem, glad I could help," He smiles and stands up, walking me out.

I hug him again before leaving. Again, he's taken aback, but what can I say? I'm a hugger.

I slowly make my way to my apartment, tense about what I'll find there. I love my Dad so much, but he's getting scary. Maybe I can...

When I walk in, Dad's passed out on the floor with a beer bottle in his loose hand.

I quickly turn away and go to his room where his computer is. I need to find some rehab centers near here that I could take him to. I wonder if I can get a driver's license at 15.

I find a lot of youth rehab centers. When I've been looking for about 15 minutes, I find an adult rehab center that's close to 40 minutes away.

Apparently I can't get a driver's license at 15, though.
Maybe La-- No. I can't think about him now.

I sniff away a stray tear that leaked out.

I slowly make my way back into my room and grab my battered diary. Most kids used to make fun of me for calling it a diary, but it makes me feel good calling it a diary.

I write a new entry in my sloppy handwriting.

its getting tough with dad and my meds and everything. theres no getting around it: my dads an alcoholic. i just wish he loved me like he loved mom.

My handwriting gets significantly worse through those last words as my tears damage the page.

I unclip my mask and toss it to the other side of my bed. It accidentally hits the footboard but I don't hear any cracks or anything.

damn, my wall is fucked up now. i need to buy more bandages definitely. maybe invest in a punching bag. anyway, ive found a rehab place for dad, i just hope that larry will drive us there because i dont feel safe with dad driving, and im not old enough to get a license. god larry. im really really

I stop there. My face heats up and I close the book and slide it under my pillow.