So This Might Be A Book

His Story

For once I'm doing something a normal writer would do and make a story that isn't about me. There won't be any fancy words and maybe this will be a terrible story to you, but this is the story of Richard Lee Esquiaqui. Chances are you don't know him, and if you do I really wish you would have talked to him. I wish I would have talked to him more.

In 6th grade I took Spanish, not that this is a particularly unusual thing but this is where we meet our hero. See I sat next to him but never really talked to him I mean sure a nod and an occasional glance to him for help when I wasn't entirely sure what I would order in a Mexican restaurant. When he and I did talk though he had an accent. As to what nationality or region it was from still perplexes me, but I recognized it as the Wichawd accent. It made it difficult for him to say R's. At first it was difficult for me to understand but as it changed from asking for help to asking what his favorite sport was (just to let you know it was none because sports are ewwww) and if he had siblings. Then I don't exactly remember a whole lot from Middle School at least for seventh grade. Though in 8th grade I learned that like me he had a deep interest in manga/anime (little did I know his interest was much more intense than my own) and would often be seen reading a volume of manga from the library. That boy managed to read most if not all our small town library had. I was definitely impressed. He developed a crush on a friend of mine and this made us get a bit closer mainly because my friend hated him with a passion and I didn't so I talked to him. Then one day after school I walked with him to his house, I had no idea why really I just did. The house that he disappeared into was a bright orange with some painting that was for a small child on the wall below his window (fun fact he broke into his own house through this window and it was quite entertaining to watch.) This would become a common occurrence, walking home with Richard we talked every second.

Once over Summer though he came to my house. Mom wasn't home which is best. We just watched YouTube videos that were abridged versions of anime. It would be a while until he came back again. Starting freshman year of highschool, we had no classes together but still talked.

Then one day we just went to my house after school. Mom of course wasn't home and we talked but also now we sang along to music blaring in the house always as long as he was over and eating little things mom wouldn't notice missing. There was always the singing which was never hidden. The music never ceased, we both were terrible but it felt like it was a band of two who never ran out of songs to sing. The show didn't have to go on, but we dragged it on as long as we could. I started letting him borrow my IPod every day to get more familiar with the music.

Katie, don't cry, I know

You're trying your hardest

And the hardest part is letting go

Of the nights we shared

Ocala is calling

And you know it's haunting

But compared

To your eyes,

Nothing shines

Quite as bright

And when we look to the sky,

It's not mine,

But I want it so

Let's not pretend like you're alone tonight

(I know he's there and)

You're probably hanging out and making eyes

(while across the room he stares)

I'll bet he gets the nerve to walk the floor

And ask my girl to dance, and she'll say yes