You know what? My best friend in the whole world loves me.
And you know what else? I love him back.
I don't think he knows that I know about him, though. I think he thinks I won't get it because I have a tendency to wander off and watch the people around me do their own thing.
But he's wrong. I understand him better than he does.
He is so wonderful. Me and him are always thinking the same thing. If we're bored, we'll bring out the Crayolas and draw pretty pictures, or sometimes we'll bring out the markers and draw pretty pictures on each other.
Then I have a perfectly good reason for staring at him for hours on end.
I love to draw on him. His body is so curvy and beautiful, and it only becomes more curvy and beautiful when I cover it in my beautiful pictures.
One time, he drew this line-thing from my nipple all the way down to the line where my boxers started, and I knew he wanted to go farther down than that. I know he likes staring at me, too, and that's another reason why I like it when we bring out the markers and color on each other.
I like hanging out with him at his house better than at my dorm, because his house is so full of life and it's all DIFFERENT. His Mama is there all the time, the authority. All of his little sisters have their own personality, with the exception of the twins. They share a personality. And then there's all the animals. The ferrets, who remind me of me sometimes, all happy and bumbly, and then the bunny, he's all white, a pure white, like he's an angel or something, and then Letterman, the biggest dog I've ever seen in my life.
Letterman likes me a lot.
My house isn't like his. I don't even have a house. All I have is my dorm, where I'm by myself. At my parents' house, it's just my mom and dad. It reminds me of a museum there.
It's cold, quiet, and you can't touch ANYTHING.
I'm one of those people where I like to touch things. My favorite thing to touch is him, because his skin is always so soft and the same color of chocolate milk. I can't ever drink chocolate milk anymore because then I think of him and then I spill it on my white shirt and then I stain it. I never wear it again after that, but I save it, because then, if I do pull it out to muck it up from painting or something, then I can be the same color as him, until it gets stained more with other, different, happy colors.
A thing I would love to try with him is to buy body paint and then leaves stripes and dots and handprints all over his body. And then he can do that to mine, and then we can take pictures, and I would make them huge and put them all over my walls of my dorm. He would be very beautiful, dressed up like an Indian going to war.
I did that once at Harley's house. I stole Mikhael's watercolor paints, and then painted a Buffy story on his walls after painting myself like an Indian.
They weren't happy with me.
The walls there are so white and not colorful. They need to make them happier. Like, we could take out all the furniture and lay down some sheets and then finger-paint the walls with happy colors, like yellow and purple and green. And then, we could all paint each other and take lots of pictures and I would put those on my walls too, me and him and Harls and Mik.
Maybe even Tabs and Allen and 'Sheequa, if they wanted to.
But I don't think they would want to.
I know that my two bestest friends would like to do that. I don't think Mik would be happy though.
I got off track again.
I do that a lot, you know, change my train of thought. It just goes that way.
That's all.
I know he likes it like that though. It keeps things interesting.
I wonder of he ever thinks about the time in the church. He didn't want to come into the lights with me, though, he wanted to stay away and not be colorful, but then something clicked in his head and he came and stood with me, and we made patterns in the colors on our skin.
That was ubershibby.
I love touching him. It's comforting, like ice cream on a sore throat or a hug at the exact right time you need it.
I want to touch him right now. He's sitting right here, right next to me, right at this second. But I know he's thinking hard about something, and if I just touch him for no reason he'll move away.
I want him to move to me, not away from me.
I just want him...
One time, I was tracing his palm, and it was the most beautiful thing he and I ever did together. He just sat there, watching me, and I just lay there and traced his palm back and forth and back again. I never wanted to stop, but then Harley came in and stopped us because we had to leave to go to our gig.
Maybe it was good he stopped us. Sometimes I think that if he hadn't stopped us all those times it would've gone farther than we both wanted it to.
And things would get weird.
And I don't want things to get weird.
I just want things to stay the same, and yet at the same time be different, so we can have each other and not have to worry about anything.
And you know what else? I love him back.
I don't think he knows that I know about him, though. I think he thinks I won't get it because I have a tendency to wander off and watch the people around me do their own thing.
But he's wrong. I understand him better than he does.
He is so wonderful. Me and him are always thinking the same thing. If we're bored, we'll bring out the Crayolas and draw pretty pictures, or sometimes we'll bring out the markers and draw pretty pictures on each other.
Then I have a perfectly good reason for staring at him for hours on end.
I love to draw on him. His body is so curvy and beautiful, and it only becomes more curvy and beautiful when I cover it in my beautiful pictures.
One time, he drew this line-thing from my nipple all the way down to the line where my boxers started, and I knew he wanted to go farther down than that. I know he likes staring at me, too, and that's another reason why I like it when we bring out the markers and color on each other.
I like hanging out with him at his house better than at my dorm, because his house is so full of life and it's all DIFFERENT. His Mama is there all the time, the authority. All of his little sisters have their own personality, with the exception of the twins. They share a personality. And then there's all the animals. The ferrets, who remind me of me sometimes, all happy and bumbly, and then the bunny, he's all white, a pure white, like he's an angel or something, and then Letterman, the biggest dog I've ever seen in my life.
Letterman likes me a lot.
My house isn't like his. I don't even have a house. All I have is my dorm, where I'm by myself. At my parents' house, it's just my mom and dad. It reminds me of a museum there.
It's cold, quiet, and you can't touch ANYTHING.
I'm one of those people where I like to touch things. My favorite thing to touch is him, because his skin is always so soft and the same color of chocolate milk. I can't ever drink chocolate milk anymore because then I think of him and then I spill it on my white shirt and then I stain it. I never wear it again after that, but I save it, because then, if I do pull it out to muck it up from painting or something, then I can be the same color as him, until it gets stained more with other, different, happy colors.
A thing I would love to try with him is to buy body paint and then leaves stripes and dots and handprints all over his body. And then he can do that to mine, and then we can take pictures, and I would make them huge and put them all over my walls of my dorm. He would be very beautiful, dressed up like an Indian going to war.
I did that once at Harley's house. I stole Mikhael's watercolor paints, and then painted a Buffy story on his walls after painting myself like an Indian.
They weren't happy with me.
The walls there are so white and not colorful. They need to make them happier. Like, we could take out all the furniture and lay down some sheets and then finger-paint the walls with happy colors, like yellow and purple and green. And then, we could all paint each other and take lots of pictures and I would put those on my walls too, me and him and Harls and Mik.
Maybe even Tabs and Allen and 'Sheequa, if they wanted to.
But I don't think they would want to.
I know that my two bestest friends would like to do that. I don't think Mik would be happy though.
I got off track again.
I do that a lot, you know, change my train of thought. It just goes that way.
That's all.
I know he likes it like that though. It keeps things interesting.
I wonder of he ever thinks about the time in the church. He didn't want to come into the lights with me, though, he wanted to stay away and not be colorful, but then something clicked in his head and he came and stood with me, and we made patterns in the colors on our skin.
That was ubershibby.
I love touching him. It's comforting, like ice cream on a sore throat or a hug at the exact right time you need it.
I want to touch him right now. He's sitting right here, right next to me, right at this second. But I know he's thinking hard about something, and if I just touch him for no reason he'll move away.
I want him to move to me, not away from me.
I just want him...
One time, I was tracing his palm, and it was the most beautiful thing he and I ever did together. He just sat there, watching me, and I just lay there and traced his palm back and forth and back again. I never wanted to stop, but then Harley came in and stopped us because we had to leave to go to our gig.
Maybe it was good he stopped us. Sometimes I think that if he hadn't stopped us all those times it would've gone farther than we both wanted it to.
And things would get weird.
And I don't want things to get weird.
I just want things to stay the same, and yet at the same time be different, so we can have each other and not have to worry about anything.