"You loved her?"

"Yes."

"And she loved you?"

"Yes."

"Then why did it end?"

"Because love and compatibility are not always the same thing."

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Logan Henderson

BlogPost 001

Welcome

Have you ever hit the concrete flat on your face from a 10 storey jump? Well, probably not in a literal sense, but I'm sure it's felt like it a time or two in your life. The worst feeling in the entire world. You just kind of shut down and become this terrified-by-everything overly-anxious shell of a person, the shadow of who you were before all that terrible shit happened.

Maybe it's reassuring to know that you aren't the only one.

But maybe it's not.

Oh well.

Everyone copes in a different way, it's one of the many things that make people who they are; how they deal with grief, sadness, anger, any emotion in a strong enough form. People cope in so many ways: drugs, drinking, sex, music, painting, writing, singing, dancing, sleeping, eating. And not one single person copes the same way.

But here I am, writing all this bullshit in hopes that it'll help me cope with what the fuck has happened the past 5 years of my life. Jesus Christ.

I'm not really sure where to start this whole thing exactly, but we'll go back a little further back than 5 years. Fill in a few blanks and go from there.

Ladies and gentlemen, let us begin the shitlord tale of my life, 28-year-old Logan Henderson-Teller, the pathetic mess of the decade.

*high hat hit**Cshh*

I guess there's no place better to start than the beginning. Ah, freshmen year. It's the year of innocence and anxiety, no? Yeah. I remember being this terrified little 14-year-old engulfed in a flood of people much bigger than me. It was fucking terrifying. You hear all these horror stories or high school as a build up, and I think that terrifies the shit out of you more than anything; the build up. Moving on.

So, there I was..

The bell for lunch had just rang, and I was not looking forward to it. I lucked out and got first round lunch, which apparently was rare for a Freshmen. That's what I get for being in advanced classes. Shit.

I waited a little bit so the halls would clear out; I'm 5'3", not exactly the tallest guy around. The last thing I need is trampled on my first day of high school.

I found my way downstairs to the lunch room, which was even better cause my next class was art, right down the hallway.

I didn't see anyone I knew, they were mostly Juniors and Seniors. I found an empty table and sat my books down and slid my leather jacket off, handing it off the back of the chair. I went through the quicklane line, getting a bottle of water anda bag of chips. I didn't have much of an appetite.

I rushed back to the table that was still completely vacant and reclaimed my seat. I opened up my journal for the school newspaper and started writing a bit on my surroundings. Mrs. Buckley, the teacher in charge of the paper, came to me last year and asked if I would join. I had a gift for writing, apparently.

There wasn't a lot of information to retain this first day, so I went back to eating my chips, keeping eye contact with anyone to a minimul; and then my life got fucked.

Now, kids, let me tell you exactly what I mean by fucked; you know how you look both ways before crossing the street so you don't get hit by a car? I looked both ways and then got hit by a fucking airplane. That's how fucked my life got pretty much after that very moment. D.

"Mind if we sit here?" I didn't want to look up. I could tell he was bigger than me, and his voice was so deep definitely older than me, too.

Against my better judgement (and here came the fuckery) I looked up to see these piercing baby blues eyes staring back down to me, surrounded by a greasy head of blonde hair.

"Uhm," I didn't answer them, but I moved my shit out of the way. He and four others sat down, leaving chairs on both of my sides open, thank god. I just minded my business and stayed quiet, but that was, I guess, the wrong move.

"Do you not speak?" The same one who asked for them to sit there asked me. I shrugged.

"I'm not talkative." I knew I had said it in more of a whisper than a regular tone, but what are you gonna do? I was shy as hell.

"Well that's a problem." he said. He took the final drink of his milk and crumpled it up, tossing it on his empty tray with the other trash. "If you're gonna sit here all year, you gotta talk." The other three guys looked at him with smirks. He was fucking with me, he was fucking with me so bad.

"And who said I'd be sitting here all year?"

He chuckled and leaned back, motioning his hands all around the cafeteria. "See any other tables?"

Mother fucking shit. This was literal the only place I could sit at this point. Way to fucking go, kid. He sighed and blinked hard, one time.

"I'm Logan." First name basis, that was it.

"Jax, this is Opie," he motioned to the scruffy beared brunette next to him. "That's Rex," the tall lanky brunette. "And that's Marty." Another greasy brunette with the start of a beer gut. Great. Take a look Logan, you're lunch buddies for the next 9 months of your life.

It felt like an eternity but the bell finally rang for the next period. I got out of my seat quicker than a bat out of hell and hurried down to the art room.

I was the first one in the room, the male teacher behind his desk not even noticing. He was doing something with air brush tools.

And then, the second person came in. God fucking damn it.

"There he is!" the teacher yelled hopping up. "Thank goodness." he handed Jax all of the air brush equipment that he was working with. "Get these taken apart and throw em in the sink. After that I need you to bring out clay for 3-D Sculpt next period." And he went to work right away.

I waited while more students came in, but there were only 5 of us total.

"I like this," the teacher, who introduced himself as Mr. Moore, said to us. "I like small groups. It's more, one-on-one." He handed out a blank sheet of paper to everyone there.

"Now," he took a seat on one of the tables in the front of the room."Draw me whatever you want. Draw it, paint it. Whatever. You have," he looked at his watch. "15 minutes. Get to it!"

Funny this is, I still remember the exact thought that came to my head when he said that. Absolutely freedom. I loved the arts, drawing, painting, air brush, chalk, all of it. It was my thing, one of my many coping mechanisms. Ah, the good ole days. Anyways, I drew a skull flower and dude went nuts-o over it.

"Stay after school today, we are gonna talk art club!" he told me, handing me a paper about the club. Awesoe. Another club to add to the resume.

Asmuch as I almost didn't want to stay after school, I did. In hopes that there would be more people, but, no. Me. Mr. Moore. And Jax. Fucking great.

"You came!" Mr. Moore yelled, standing up and going to put away paint brushes.

"I, uh, I did. Why are there no other people here yet?"

"Sign ups aren't for another two weeks," he explained. I could literally feel my face drop. "However, I could use a secretary. Mrs. Buckley put in a very nice word for you. And my president," he motioned to Jax. "did too."

Oh? Well, at least he isn't talking shit about me I guess.

"I mean, I guess that can work."

So I stayed and talked with Mr. Moore and Jax about art club and what all we do involving it. It was almost going on 4:30 when we caught the time, all of us hurrying around to finish up and leave.

"Sorry for keeping you guys so long, hurry home. I'll see you tomorow." Jax and I walked out the back door and Mr. Moore locked it behind us.

"Hey!" I had started making my way towards the street when he called after me. My life was monumently fucked up at this point, it was happening. I spun on my heel.

"Yes?" I questioned him. He caught up to me, coming to a stop after a brief jog up.

"Do you need a ride?" he pulled out his car keys. I thought about it, and a ride did sound much better than walking the two miles to my house. "It's not a problem." I accepted.

We walked to his car, it was a big black SUV, with lots of room. I hopped in, setting my books on my lap. I dug through my purse and found my cigarettes (here it comes).

"Can I smoke in here?" He nodded, starting the car. I lit up a cigarette and dug through my cigarette pack, looking for the joit I had rolled that morning (wait for it). "Do you burn?" I asked him, holding it up.

And he gave me that look; the mother fucking look. The one that broke me, my soul, my everything. The look that started all of this dumb ass bullshit. That, kids, is the day Jaxon Teller became my very best friend, and the members of SAMCRO were soon to become family. Now, moving on a bit, let's skip about 3 years, to my high school graduation.

Ah, about fucking time. The stress, anxiety and turmoil I had gone through the last 4 years had been so worth it to be here. Valedictorian, top of my class. I was beyong ready for this.

I peaked into the auditorium, watching the slide show play. It showed each of our pictures from grade 9 up until our current senior picture. I looked at the sweet innocent shy little 9th grade girl and couldn't help but chuckle. I looked at my reflection in one of the big glass windows. God, I was an adult. Who was I even in 9th grade? and terrified. Weak. I didn't know myself. Now, here I am. Getting ready to go off to college, being who I am.

"Pfft, look at this tattoo covered sleeze ball." I had the biggest smile on my face as I turned around to see who said it. There he was, standing there with Gemma and Opie.

"Jax!" I screamed, taking off running down the hallway. I'm not sure how I did it in such a tight dress and heels, but I jumped straight up on him, wrapping my entire body around his, hugging him tight. He pulled me closer, layin a hand on the back of my head, hugging me as tight as I was hugging him.

"I'm so glad you came!" He set me down easy on the ground. I fidgeted around and pulled my dress back down into place.

"Of course we came." his mother said, giving me a kiss on the cheek.

"I wouldn't miss this for the world." Jax told me.

I wanted to talk more but I was interrupted by Mrs. Buckley yelling for us to come into the gym to get ready for the ceremony to start. I gave all three of them a hug and told them I'd see them after.

Ah, graduation was so bitter sweet. It was amazing, cause I'll never have to deal with that bullshit again. And the summer after graduation? Even more amazing. But the week before I left for college? Absolute worst fucking week of my entire life.

You know how when you make a really good choice in life, but it's a really hard one? Like, you can choose to have 2.5 million dollars, but you can't talk to your mother for an entire 5 years kind of choice. That's what me going away to college felt like.

I was so used to Charming and the people. I felt safe here, comfortable. The people, the places. I literally spent the entirety of that summer at T&M garage, doing nothing but hanging out with my best friend, his best friend, drinking, and smoking trees. It was wonderful. But that week I had to pack my things..

It was my third breakdown of the day, and I wasn't even sure I had enough tears to cry anymore. I looked at my luggage in the corner of my room, my entire life packed up into bags and boxes. I was about to move almost 1000 miles from home to start my own chapter as an adult at college. This was about to be the biggest change of my life.

"Knock knock." I looked up to see a gloom Jax leaning against my door frame. I quickly patted my face to make sure there were no tears. I tried very hard to compose myself as I stood up and walked from my bed over to him, but it didn't work so well. By the time I made it to him I was hysterical again.

I just remember him holding me that entire night while I cried about everything and nothing. He comforted every worry I had, and shut down any fear I tried to create in my own head. I was just this 18-year-old baby, and my 21-year-old best friend was trying his hardest to convince me things would be okay. He kept reminding me that by the time I was his age, I would be done with school and could come home. Kept reminding me that, no matter how crazy things got with his MC, he would be here when I came back.

"You'll be okay, kid." he pulled me close, placing a kiss on the top of my head. I put out the joint we were smoking and just sat, leaning against him, watching the sun go down. Tomorrow was the day everything was going to change, tomorrow night I would be going to sleep in a different room, in a different town, around people I didn't know at all.

"I'm so scared." I cried to him, pulling his leather kutte close to me. I wanted to remember that smell forever; leather and musk. I never wanted to let this moment go, not ever.

He leaned down and lifted my chin up, staring into my eyes.

Here it was, the biggest mind fuck of all of this. The REAL moment all of this bullshit started. The Earth shattering moment, right here.

I remember going limp the next second, giving into this desire that was burning inside of my core. His lips were so soft, just how I imagined that were the past 4 years. God, he was such a good kisser. He made me want far more than just a kiss, but I had to keep telling myself no. Sleeping with him the night before I left wasn't a good idea. Hell, this kiss wasn't a good idea. But I couldn't resist, and what harm could a little kiss do?

A lot. A lot of fucking harm is the answer.

Well, to shorten things up and finish catching you up, I left for college the next day where I lived mostly for the next 4 years, earning my degree. I tried to keep my time in Charming minimal, it made things easier when I had to leave again to go back to college.

It was a sad thing, I didn't see Jax much. The first few visits I made home he hung out non-stop, but as time went on, our time together got short. He took over the role of Vice President in the club and got too busy for me, too busy for whatever the hell it was we had going on. I started hanging out with Opie more, to be honest. Donna and I became really great friends, I even stayed with her when she had their first baby since Opie was out of town on business.

Now, four years of high school, done. Four years of college, done. There I was, 22-years-old, degree in hand, moving all the way back to Charming, California, for the first time in 4 years.

So, you got a taste of the fuckery that's going on in my life. Next blog post I'll dive right in, right where this story really starts. The day I moved back from college.

Absolute fuckery. Seriously.

Okay.

Signing off.

-Logan Henderson-Teller