A. S. Echos

it’s been eight years. 
          
          eight years, and everything is so different. 
          
          i hope everyone on this app that i called friend, acquaintance, reader is okay. i know not everyone will be, but i still Hope. 
          
          what’s funny is i’m not a kid anymore, not some silly little fan fiction writer. i grew up. graduated high school. went to college. soon i’ll graduate again, and, hopefully, become an english teacher. 
          
          all of my old fanfictions are so silly. i read them and see my progress in my writing. thank you all for putting up with me through that, it meant a lot. 
          
          now, at twenty-one, i’m a published poet, a far cry from little thirteen-year-old me who started writing on here for fun. 
          
          i think i might clean up some of my old works. see if i can make them better, maybe write some new original pieces. who knows what the future holds for us. 
          
          thanks again <3
          
          Altern 

She walked into my room as I was writing. My focus was only on my story. 
          "What are you doing?" She asked and I literally jumped. 
          "Writing."
          "Let me see," and she took my paper, reading it. "My Lord, hija, this is beautiful. You should publish it. It's a mix of Avatar and Lord of the Rings. You could be famous one day, Belle."
          And she set it down and left. 
          
          She had praised my creative abilities for the first time in my life....

It's been a while since I last said anything about my boy....
          
          Yesterday he broke a vending machine. He had glass all in his hair and all over his shirt. They made him shower which washed out all the gel in his hair. In all honestly, when it was just lightly styled to the side it looked better, more mature. He looked his age instead of like the little kid I fell in love with. He was was the same boy on the inside, but he didn't look it. He got in trouble with the school for not shaving and so he shaved and between the clean face and the new hairdo, he looked older than his age. He looked in his early 20s (not like he's almost there anyways...) rather than his (extremely) late teens. 
          Whenever we were walking in the hall, I felt like the little kid rather than the mature one in the relationship....
          
          What a difference one little thing can make. 
          
          I am conflicted once again. 
          
          He feels distanced, like he's trying to get away from me. He is graduating this year....he may try to leave me when he leaves. I'm not sure what's gonna happen, but it makes me sad to think about him being gone. He's growing up. He's leaving me behind. 
          
          This makes me...depressed? Upset? Fall apart? Indifferent....this isn't the first time someone has left me behind when they left....
          I just never thought it would happen again....

"I love you." he whispered into my neck. 
          "Remember the first time we said that?" I grinned into his shoulder. 
          "Not really...." he pulled slightly away, just enough to look me in the face. 
          "It was after the second to last home game. We were about to leave. I didn't get a photo with you because you jealous now-ex-girlfriend was still with you. When she left to the band bus, I gave you a hug--"
          "I remember now! I shoulder-padded you in the face." He chuckled. 
          "Yea!" I laughed. 
          "And then I said bye I love you."
          "And I said it back before you had to go."
          "And when we pulled out of the hug, our fingertips lingered in the hug for a little bit longer than they were supposed to..." I felt his arms slide from my shoulders to my waist, a sensitive area that I allowed few to touch.
          "Yea." I shuddered with a chill that ran through my spine. 
          "I love you." His hand found its way to my thigh where he rubbed my scars through the fabric of my jeans. 
          
          He had started to massage my thighs whenever we had moments like these. He understood my past and loved me from my face hidden by makeup to my scars hidden by fabric. 
          
          "I love you too."
          

"Who are you?"
          He once asked
          "I'm the truth."
          I answered back
          "Who is she?"
          His brother once asked
          "She's a mystery."
          He answered back
          "What's she to you?"
          His best friend once asked
          "She's my clue."
          He answered back
          "Who are you?"
          I once asked
          "I'm in love with you."
          He answered back 

Today has been...horrible.
          
          What was supposed to be a great day--yesterday being my brother's birthday, meaning I was supposed to record a song for him and today I was supposed to go on a date-- took a turn for the worst. 
          
          He had to bail on our date. 
          We didn't get to go...
          
          Between that and the worst part, I couldn't take it. 
          
          "She hangs around with all the guys. I wonder how many the little whore had f*ck*d already"
          "She's such a slut"
          "Can't she shut up? So much singing gets annoying after a while"
          "Such an attention seeker"
          "Worthless piece of sh*t"
          "Dreamer"
          "Ugly"
          "B*tch"
          
          
          He saw me, hidden away in my little corner between the piano and the door. He saw me, the black tears trailing eyeliner along my cheeks. He saw me, I know because I met his eyes once when I lifted my head and looked to God's Kingdom in prayer. 
          
          I stood to leave when the bell rang. I ran to the bathroom. In all attempt to avoid the two brawling band members, I slipped on a fallen backpack's strap, twisting my ankle as I caught myself on a chair. Four heads turned to the sound of my sharp intake of air. 
          
          Brent, both of the fighters, and his. 
          I met their eyes, but his only for a split second. 
          
          I escaped, my ankle sending a stinging pain with every hurried step. The look in his eyes was all I needed. 
          
          The sound of his following footsteps.
          Brent's hand stopping him. 
          "Let her go, man. She'll be alright."
          
          When I returned, I found myself enraged when I watched a wg boy drop his rifle on my backpack and walk off. I took it and ran into the instrument storage room, throwing it at him and then leaving. Running. 
          
          Right into him. I found myself wrapped in his arms, the tightest hug he'd ever given me. I found myself surprisingly able to equal his strength. When I let go, I saw two watery stains where my eyes had been. 
          
          I don't know if he noticed.

To my Greaser kin:
          
          I know the irl Johnny Cade. 
          
          No, not the actor. 
          
          In my band class there is a 16 year old sophomore who looks EXACTLY like Johnny, down to the accent. All he needs is to wear more denim....
          
          Sadly his name is Jordan not Johnny. 
          
          But still. 
          
          This discovery is amazing...!!!!!

Chris couldn't take us today, he had to work.... I'm sad, but I understand. Oh well apparently it's been rescheduled to Tuesday of next week....sooooo.... I've got hope. 
          
          Chris wanted to plan our date anyways. He wanted to take us out somewhere where he and his girl go and it would be a late date and I didn't like that (I love my boy, and I love Chris like a brother, but I still have trouble trusting guys out late) specially since I had a place I wanted us to go: a little restaurant in the old downtown. It's a special place and I wanted him to go there--not a lot of people go there, it's an old place. My dad and I used to go there when I was a little kid, but only when something real special happened. The last time I went was when I got my first real haircut. 
          
          I just hope Chris doesn't mind. I know my boy won't mind. And I know an afternoon with my boy will make me happy(er). 

Sooooooooo me and him might go on a DATE on Wednesday..... unless you count the football games, this is our first actual date. 
          
          The whole thing rests upon his brother's shoulders though. 
          
          *sigh* we have ended up putting the weight of our relationship on Chris's shoulders, yes. And I feel so bad, but I can't legally drive, nor is my car in te best shape. And he doesn't have a car. But Chris can drive. And has a car. So....
          
          Sorry, Chris, but we wanna go on a date on Wednesday, so do you mind...hardcore third wheeling? 

LOOKIEEEE AT MY NEW BACKGROUND!!!
          
          He sent me a pic of him half asleep :)
          
          This makes me happy.