I had one week until Valentine's Day. One week how to figure out how I could spill my guts to him, and still walk away with some dignity.
The name's Logan. I'm at the lucky age of thirteen, and I'm a girl despite the popular belief that Logan is a boy's name. You're absolutely right, it is, and I have no idea what possessed my parents to name me this, but they did. I suppose it's better than Christina or Samantha. I used to hate the name, but I grew to like it, simply because it's different.
Background information can be boring, but I don't want to start ranting about my story until you know me and a few of the other people I'll be mentioning. I'll only say what's important (or at least what I think is important. We may have a bit of a different view on that). I'll make it as brief as I can because it bores some people, but I'm not making any promises. I do have a tendency to go on (just like I'm doing right now).
Okay, so I'm punk. I like music and Hello Kitty, skanking and being loud. I like black, and I like depressing things despite the fact that my personality tends to be the complete opposite. I'm like on a perpetual sugar high, and I'm overly enthusiastic almost always. I talk fast, and I laugh at almost everything. I'm not saying that this is how I feel, but it's how I act.
I'm really smart even though I do have UBER stupid moments. I'm in honors, and I sometimes wonder how I managed, because I can't believe how stupid I sound sometimes. (It's the blonde hair I bet). I read constantly, either manga or some long-ass novel that I get far too into for my own good. I like video games (especially RPGs)… So I figure I'm as much of a dork as I am a punk.
You've probably been wondering, and still are wondering who "he" is. Haha, you're going to laugh, so get it out of your system now. Waits for intense laughter to die down. Um… I love him. And no, this isn't one of those "Oh my god! He is so hot, I wish he'd ask me out!" cases. This is love, and I swear to it. I think about him constantly, and I'd chop off my right arm to spend five minutes with the boy. Any problems I have are gone within seconds of hearing his voice. He's the only person that actually listens to my incessant chattering, and for that, I am endlessly grateful.
He's five foot seven,(or at least he claims to be). His brown-ish hair is a mess, and his eyes are a soft brown color beneath his glasses. He's a dork to say the least, but that doesn't dampen my love for him. Yeah, I called the guy I like a dork, but what else would you call a guy who vividly describes the battle systems of video games you name for your listening pleasure? See? You think so too now! Damn, I'm persuasive.
…And I've just realized that after all of that, I have failed to mention his name. It's Evan by the way. Looks innocent.
Yeah, I talk (or in this case write) in the third person sometimes. (This is where Sam should interject, cross out my "sometimes" and add "a lot"). Evan and a few of my other friends do it too. I've decided it's a side effect from reading too much manga, and wishing you were Asian. I'M ASIAN ON THE INSIDE!
Gasp! There's more background to this all than I had thought originally. Um… let's see… my parents are divorced, I see my father on weekends and my mother during the week.
I play drums takes a bow and I have a kick ass drum teacher named Max who is fucking awesome in every way possible. I'm in a band called Here's To Being Lost with my friends Sam, Steve, and Dave. Sam and I are trying to talk the guys into something a bit less emo, but they're adamant about the emo-ness. Dave is emo, and I can't say I'm not, so I suppose it's alright. I mean, it's a decent name.
Dave is cool. I've known him for about a year, and it's been great. Dave is the kind of guy girls swoon over (yes, I did just use the word "swoon"). If it wasn't for the fact that I still remember him as a seventh grader with braces, glasses, and a shitty haircut, I'd probably be drooling over him along with half of my school's female population (and maybe male, who knows?)
Sam's been my friend since sixth grade. We're really close, and I have the right to believe she knows more about me than anyone else in the world. She's really pretty and nice, but she seems to have a bit of guy trouble. The last guy to ask her out was so fat she was more afraid of him eating her than actually trying to touch her. I remember one day not too long after he asked her out she came to me and said "Oh my god Logan, I had the WORST dream. I was in a house alone with Sinisa. AND THERE WAS NO FOOD!"
Now we move on to Steve, who is lovingly known as "Alphonse". I think I may be able to go on about Steve forever. Okay. Here's the bit of background. I used to like Steve. To put it bluntly, he treated me like complete shit, and I was uber depressed like all the time and I wanted to kill myself. Sounds fun, right? We're doing better now though. Like, Steve is like my brother (to put it in a clichéd form). I really respect him and his opinions as much as I hate to say it, even though we are constantly at each other's throats. Here's the killer though. We're always fighting, and I'm always the one apologizing because he's too immature to do it himself (even when I'm right!) and I'm too mature to give a flying fuck.
ANYWAYS. I think I'm done ranting, and we can move on to the actual story. Take a bow! You've made it this far, think you can stand the rest of my book?