I asked my best friend a simple question a few minutes ago. My male best friend, pretty much the only male in whom I haven't completely given up interest. I just asked him what color my eyes are.
He said he doesn't know. We've been good friends since the seventh grade - that's five years! Five years! - and he still doesn't know the color of my eyes. Has he never so much as looked at my eyes?
I thought it might be the end. Of whatever. He had failed me enough times before, hadn't been there when I needed him, but not to know, after five years of friendship, that my eyes are green!
Another long story starting in the distant past. This past even more distant, actually. I hope the story won't be as long.
This one starts more than five years ago. I was in sixth grade, I think. I decided one day (although in my mind I had been considering the idea for quite some time) to leave the kid with whom I had been best friends since about kindergarten or first grade and to hang out with a different crowd.
The next day, my mother bought me flowers. And I've been functionally grounded ever since.
I usually think of him by his first and last name, or sometimes just his last name, but that would make him too traceable, or me too traceable to him, so I'll call him 'Solace' because that's the name he used when we were antagonistic correspondents (pen-enemies). It's short for 'All Solace Everywhere,' which is a very annoying name that sums him up pretty well.
I don't even know what I'm doing here; I just discovered this site today, but it looks like a lot of kids not all that different from me write a lot of stuff here that may be crap or may actually be kind of meaningful, so I'm willing to give it (whatever 'it' is) a shot without worrying too much about clogging up the Internet with my irrelevant musings.