The first thing I see in the morning is a blank, somber white wash wall, sometimes when I sleep at an angle a small corner of color from a poster peeks into view. It's not a beautiful seaside resort, but it's home and it's relaxing. It's nice to know that even if my life is chaotic, my walls will still be the sane almost boring white wash walls that they always were. When you're eighteen, you take pretty much any constant you can find in your life I suppose.
The only thing I enjoy more than the everyday view of my walls, is my computer. It's really more of a portal if you think about it. Locked in that tiny little box are my friends from around the world, my best friend across town, and all of the random games I play in spare time… Which in my case is most of my time.
I guess it's really more of a routine, I wake up early I get ready and I jump on the computer to see what's happening in the world. Occasionally I turn up the music a little too loud just to see if my parents got up yet, but usually it's just nice to have the surrounding silence.
Silence is supposed to be really "conducive to the thought process" (my best friend's words), but really I think I do most of my best thinking when I'm around her. It's not that it's brilliant thinking or anything remotely like that, it's just more creative and relaxed. I seem to have a thing about relaxed I guess.
I hear a lot of people have some of their most profound thoughts when they're just starting to wake up. I suppose it's because it's right before any of their "peer pressure" can kick in, so their mind is free to be itself for a brief glimmer of a second. I usually don't think anything when I just wake up. This could mean one of two things, I'm not a very profound person, or I'm a perfect conformist.
My best friend on the other hand is a very profound person and a horrible conformist. I'm sure when she wakes up and sees all of the posters decorating her wall in a complex collage symbolizing things I couldn't even begin to fathom… Well. It's probably quite enlightening to be in her mind. She once told me that she knows what kind of day it will be just by who she wakes up looking at. If it's the poster of Jim Morrison it's going to be an okay to bad day. But if the shining face of Johnny Depp is in front of her, it's going to be a fantastic day.
Lately, she's been having a lot of Jim Morrison days. I'm pretty sure that's what happens when you're a seventeen year old senior trapped in an unrequited love with a twenty-two year old. It probably doesn't help that she doesn't realize she could just move on to another guy, one of her hundreds of slobbering male slaves, and be perfectly happy. She doesn't even think she could win another guy if she tried, so she doesn't.
She really does have a nice figure, although we're in a strictly friends only relationship, God did give me eyes. She's not really slim, about average, nice flat stomach, and these almost panther-like muscles. You don't see them ever, but when she's mad you can definitely feel them.
She's also got this sweet looking appearance, and a face that's as open as a book. The only time she really hides anything well is when she's got about three liters of soda in her system. Ironically enough, as close as we are mentally and emotionally, physically we couldn't be farther apart.
This morning I woke up with a lingering dream from last night about a kiss we shared. It was nice, hopelessly out of reach in reality, but nice. Before I could realize why, I suddenly had two words drift through my mind, almost as if my body was trying to tell my day dreaming brain something.
Holy shit.
I was in my bed, a blank ceiling was staring straight back at me, covers draped slightly over my waist, and someone's arm was laying across my chest. My own arm was curled around their waist, and a waterfall of silky auburn strands was spread out across my pillow and shoulder.
Who ever it is, I don't want to know…
Of course that thought is ridiculous, at one point this person is going to wake up, and I'm going to realize who it is… I might even remember last night.
Their body was pressed close to mine, experimentally I ran a finger down the side my hand rested on, smooth gentle curves.
Who is this girl? What the hell did I do?
I realize that I can't move very much without waking her up and the confused look of horror is not one I'm ready to face yet. Instead, I tilt my head very slightly to glance at my bedside table. I begin to battle a surge of fustration as I realize a bottle of Advil and a small tilted version of log house made of pixie sticks are blocking the little digital numbers.
My best friend isn't like me, she would have the answer to this problem. She had a really clear mind, a real crystal among amethyst. She would probably look at the situation and think "okay, I don't take Advil, and I don't do pixie sticks… so what are these things doing in front of my clock?"
Explanation Number One: All of the depression I've been meekly trying to battle finally caught up with me last night. Instead of trying to confide in the only person I know would understand and offer some words of comfort to make me feel better I sunk into a deep rut of self pity.
I was probably watching some science fiction movie, saw them get drunk and realized the only way to suppress a feeling that's this strong is if I can't realize it's there in the first place. Somehow I managed to get my hands on a lot of alcohol, and like a true drunken idiot also managed to find a prostitute.
After all, in my drunk state I probably figured the real answer to my problems was a good round of sex and a hell lot of alcohol. I've never been drunk and I've never had sex so it would make sense I would combine the two of these things.
If this theory is right I should probably go find a doctor and get tested. I'm being ridiculous again. How would I get the alcohol? I'm underage. It's not possible, I don't have that kind of thought ability when I'm sober much less depressed and drunk. Obviously this won't work.
Explanation Number Two: Seeing how I cannot possibly manage to find alcohol and consume it all on my own free will and marvelous lack of connections… I'm assuming the Advil and Pixie sticks are symbolic.
In a bitter slap of reality I suddenly came to terms with the wretched idea that I would be forever alone. In order to fully cope with that idea I decided to kill myself by means of overdose via Advil and Pixie Sticks. As I'm choking one pill down at a time I'm getting less and less certain of myself.
On the fourth Advil, someone bursts into my room, this girl, and she decides that she is going to save my life for no other reason than it's the right thing to do and maybe she wants to be a nun. So she stops me and to ensure that I don't continue later after she leaves, she sacrifices herself and night and sleeps with me.
For crying out loud, that was worst than the first harebrained theory.
No one would randomly walk into my house, go down the stairs, and then proceed to sleep with a complete stranger. She would most likely call the cops, or shoot me because she's a burglar.
I'm assuming I don't know this person, but what if I do? Maybe this person is actually someone I know quite well. I don't know that many people with auburn hair. The only person I can think of is my best friend, but she's not speaking to me. If she's not speaking to me I highly doubt she'd sleep with me. Right?
Then again, what if it is her? Why would she sleep with me? Did I take advantage of her, or is this just a set up? She'll be furious when she wakes up to find herself cuddled happily in my arms, especially since she doesn't ever want to speak to me again.
Maybe it is her. Can I really say that I'm not happy about that, though? Lately, all the dreams that I've been having about her really just prove that I'm probably not subconsciously interested in a friends only relationship.
I can't think that, best friends don't sleep together, unless they're married but that's different. We're not married and the whole marrying your best friend thing won't work. It can't work between us because she likes that one guy at her work and I like the cow.
I'm so wrapped in my own thoughts I don't even realize that she's starting to wake up, until I feel her small hand move up my chest.