OLDER
CONTACT ME
DIARYLAND
2003-05-13 - 2:38 p.m.
Martin stubbed out his cigarette on the bottom of his shoe and stood up. "I'm gonna head back inside and start moving some of the smaller stuff out of the bedroom. Come on up and help when you feel like it." He went back inside and I heard him tromp up the stairs to the spare bedroom.
I really kinda hate being left alone with my thoughts like this. It makes me realize that I really don't make any sense when I think. My mind is too scattered most of the time to seem coherent to anyone else. Maybe everyone feels this way, maybe it's just me, maybe I am as crazy as people think I am. It's all maybe's and what if's anymore. I quickly stopped thinking about how crazy or significantly less sane everyone thinks I am and began thinking about her, Nikki. I don't know what it is about her, but she makes me feel free, kind of. Perhaps Martin is right and it's that she's just a kindred spirit, and outcast in this town like me. Or I could actually like her for her. That's impossible, we barely know each other, how can I like her for her? I put my backpack behind my head and laid there on the stairs staring up at the sky. You could see a few stars peeking through the shield of overcast and smog, but that's not what I was staring at. I've found that if you concentrate on a spot halfway between you and something else your mind kind of zones out and you come back to yourself feeling slightly refreshed. So I laid there, head aimed towards the sky, concentrating on a point in space halfway between me and the sky. Just then a particularly noisy truck went speeding down the street, launching a beer can at me, and breaking my concentration. From the color of the truck and the stupidity of the yells coming from it I knew it was Aaron Brown, my high school nemesis. Poor moronic Aaron, graduated from high school then started at the car plant, never even thought about college or leaving Shawston. Not like he could have gotten into college, he was the star of our rather mediocre football team and somehow that afforded him some kind of priveledge in this backwards little hole. My reverie broken, I decided to go inside and help Martin with the furniture. I made my way up the stairs, the sounds of A.F.I. pouring down the stairs from the spare bedroom; at least Martin had good taste in music. I threw my backpack onto my bed and went back down the hall to the spare bedroom. "So where are we going to put this stuff?" I stood in the doorway and asked as he finished boxing up the small things in the room. "The boxes we can put in the basement. The bedframe we can take apart and move it down there too. The dressers we just have to move into the middle of the room and cover. Nothing too terribly difficult." He said with a smile. He always seemed to be in a good mood. "What color does she plan on making this room? Hopefully her creative impulses haven't taken over too badly and it will be a tolerable color. "It's some kind of a light bluish color. It should look nice in here since this room doesn't get too much sun." We each picked up a box and began lugging the stuff down to the basement. He smacked his head on the pipe for the heater everytime we walked under it; it lost it's humor long ago. The matress and box spring we just leaned against the wall in the hallway and began taking apart the bed frame. Once it was apart we took a quick break, simply because we could. "Oh yeah, someone named Mary called for you about an hour before you came home. She said that she was sorry she missed you and would try to find you at work tomorrow. Another girl, eh? What's the story with this one?"
