Sometimes I Feel Fourteen (Like Tonight)

Today was the last day of high school for the TCHS class of 2009.

A little less than twelve months ago, I was leaving too.

After the 3:30 bell rang, I circled the foyer and said goodbye to the lion. My friends and I, grouped together for the last time, trading stories, laughs, general geniality. Anticipating the cruise we were embarking on in two days, not really considering this to be our last hurrah; the sadness not creeping in.

Truth be told. I was never sad about leaving high school. I wasn't sad the last day, i wasn't sad at baccalaureate, and I was so preoccupied with other things that I barely remember graduation.

I remember getting my diploma, head shorn, nose making me look like the eagle from the muppets, smiles, handshakes, awkward hug, and sitting down, filing out sound by side, strictly regimented joyless hat throw, then changing into my scorpion shirt and cargos, blasting Work, heading to the reception, nauseos.

(i just burned my wrist on a foreman grill)

Looking at my table, receiving my gifts (entirely gracious), flashes (the camera kind, not the good kind), stupid conversations, driving to the party, half-hearted basketball, stale cookies, dominating at ping-pong, nausea, lying on the sidewalk, stars, clouds, and jimmy eat world, lindsey comforts, back inside, pineapples, yelling, chickening out, chickening in, an hour of emotion, driving, waiting, cuban cigars, vomit, home, bed.

I guess I miss it sometimes now. That mischevious camraderie is gone forever.

I had a good night tonight.

I went to Mcalister's and enjoyed a corned beef on rye with mustard. I went with my most complicated best friend. We chatted, we caught up, we enjoyed each other's company. I told stories, she pretended to be interested. It was pleasant, we arranged to meet again soon and often. I loved it.

One bit sticks at me. It's a common enough bit. Nothing important. I dismissed it. Now, at night, alone with my xbox and kevin spacey, it bothers me. It shouldn't, why am I not the sweetest? (My sweetness is not the bothersome bit).

I feel like fourteen year old me is still around.

Braces, long hair, black shirts and insecurites. Flirting over aim, making stupid videos, and staring at the pretty girl across the room; hoping we grow up together.

More than any of my peers, i think the pretty girl made me grow up.

It bothers me that I have not kissed a girl in six years.

It bothers me that I think about things too much.

It bothers me that I think about things that do not exist.

It bothers me that I try to wish things into existence.

Tonight I am pretending that I am the sweetest boy she's ever met. (But I'm Not)

It bothers me that I burned my wrist.

I'm just concerned that, despite what she says and I think, I'm not mature enough to not take it personally.

I think romantically, I am still very much fourteen.

I believe that leaving will help. Being away from all but two people I know. I will have to grow up.

(I just had a chat with miss lindsey)

Lindsey says this should be exciting. It terrifies me. I am bad at making friends. I am awkward and I don't speak well and I'm sweaty and fidgety.

(For the past few days I have been listening to the same forty-five seconds of Ben Gibbard playing Brand New Colony acoustically over and over)

Sebastian weighed in on my melancholy, "Why are girls so retarded with that shit? She obviously knows you've got feelings. Its like they do it to be mean."

I claim that I have matured beyond taking everything personally and he rebuts with, "Whatever. No one does."

He has a point.

I am an unfair man.

I expect too much of everyone but myself. (not true, i expect a lot from me, but i actually live up to my expectations of myself)

I blame books and movies.

We've been over this months ago.

I won't lie, I am developing a self satisfied smirk. It's a little comforting. Actually, in an odd way, hugely comforting that the Magic B, has kind of returned full cycle. Like a pathetic phoenix, he rises and falls.

I don't know. I am much more cheerful now, I have high hopes for tomorrow. Thank you for accompanying me on my lonely little late night trip down memory lane.

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