I usually don’t keep diaries, or journals, or anything like that, but I wanted to write this down so I don’t forget it. It’s been almost four years now, and already the memory is blurry. I’m sure that if you asked him, he could recount every detail of that year, as he could with everything pertaining to me. Sounds stalkerish right? Well dear piece of scrap paper, that’s exactly what he is, in a way.
You see, back in 7th and 8th grade, he would always pop up out of nowhere when I was walking from class to class. Now, whoever I was walking with would freak out, seeing as they didn’t know he was there. It never fazed me, or surprised me for that matter. I don’t really know why, I guess I just accepted it as a part of the stuff that he did – popping up out of nowhere, telling me what kind of shampoo I used, threatening me with a stapler, and let’s not forget the time he told me he could guess my bra size based on the size of my shirt. Yeah, Blake was –and still is – a freak of nature. But that was fine, because I was – and still am – one too.
I haven’t always thought of him this way though, as a freak-of-nature stalker. He transferred to my school in the middle of 7th grade. Having a transfer kid in the middle of the year wasn’t really too common at my school so, needless to say, everyone was curious about him. Even back then, he had this “don’t mess with me” aura around him. He didn’t say much to anyone, and just looked at everything like he was analyzing everything and everyone just in case he needed the information later.
I hate to admit it scrap paper, but I was just as curious as everyone else, if not more so. You know, everyone else saw him as mysterious, or just the new kid. Not me. I saw him as something new, exciting, intriguing, and maybe a bit of a challenge with the hard exterior he projected. Most of all though, I saw him as someone who might just be able to bring something different into the life that had become so boring and mundane for me as of late…
And, wouldn’t you know, he did just that. He showed me that being different isn’t only better than pretending to be normal, but it’s downright fun. And maybe that’s stuck with me and made me who I am. I’m thankful to him for that. I’d tell him that and not just a piece of paper, but we haven’t talked in so long. Heaven knows what that boy’s up to…
Well paper, it seems you’re pretty much filled to capacity. Until next time.
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