Vince Michaels captivates my heart. We spent so much time just talking together in my driveway underneath the stars. We hugged endlessly, and swapped long eye contact. We talked about a life together and dreams of the future.
“If you’re it,” he said, “then I’ll be a blessed man.” How am I even supposed to respond to that? I just looked him in the eye and kept that steady contact. My heart was melting into a pile of goop right there.
We held hands briefly while talking. He sang to me as we danced in the moon light. ‘L is for the way you look at me…’ He’s old school. At one point he brushed the hair out of my face and whispered, “You’re beautiful.”
I’m falling for this man.
Friday, September 3, 2010
Thursday, September 2, 2010
My Best Friend is Dying
I woke up this morning to the sound of my mom telling me that Abby had been rushed to the hospital. She told me that she was having some sort of an episode and that my dad, my brother (her boyfriend), and the other boy that lives with us is there. I immediately burst out into heavy, tears.
Abby and I are best friends. She’s the closest girl in my life because all my other friends (and hers too) are guys. We have the same complex which makes us good for each other – we don’t like girl friends. We’ve come to the conclusion that they’re all the same and guys are better. That’s why we really hit it off. You’ll usually find Abs and I at the movies surrounded by six or seven guys, and that’s the way we like it.
I called my dad, asking if Abby was alright. He told me she was fine now, and is resting. I was still crying. My tears switched from crying for my best friend to crying that they left me out. Why wasn’t her best friend there to help her through this? Why didn’t anyone think to wake me up? Mom said they left so quickly and in such a hurry, I didn’t care.
I’m reminded of a lunch date I had with my mom. We have lunch dates every few weeks because mom works so much, if we don’t make time we’ll never get any. I was explaining to my mom all about Abby’s heart condition. She was born with it. She’s already had open heart twice (big scars across her chest), keep in mind she’s only twenty years old. When they go in for open heart they try to scar up a muscle that keeps growing back. This muscle won’t stop growing, even after two tries to scar the tissue. When it gets bigger, the flow of blood stops. I have seen this girl faint twice in my presence. It’s the scariest thing in the world to watch her go through this.
My mom looked at me and through a very serious face and said, “Eracey, is she dying?” Through more tears I nodded my head. “The first thing I think of as a mother is you’re going to have to go through losing a best friend.”
I don’t like talking about it. I don’t like writing about. I don’t like thinking about it. I’m crying even now. I’d just rather put it out of my mind for the time being. My friend is fine. She’s not going anywhere.
Abby and I are best friends. She’s the closest girl in my life because all my other friends (and hers too) are guys. We have the same complex which makes us good for each other – we don’t like girl friends. We’ve come to the conclusion that they’re all the same and guys are better. That’s why we really hit it off. You’ll usually find Abs and I at the movies surrounded by six or seven guys, and that’s the way we like it.
I called my dad, asking if Abby was alright. He told me she was fine now, and is resting. I was still crying. My tears switched from crying for my best friend to crying that they left me out. Why wasn’t her best friend there to help her through this? Why didn’t anyone think to wake me up? Mom said they left so quickly and in such a hurry, I didn’t care.
I’m reminded of a lunch date I had with my mom. We have lunch dates every few weeks because mom works so much, if we don’t make time we’ll never get any. I was explaining to my mom all about Abby’s heart condition. She was born with it. She’s already had open heart twice (big scars across her chest), keep in mind she’s only twenty years old. When they go in for open heart they try to scar up a muscle that keeps growing back. This muscle won’t stop growing, even after two tries to scar the tissue. When it gets bigger, the flow of blood stops. I have seen this girl faint twice in my presence. It’s the scariest thing in the world to watch her go through this.
My mom looked at me and through a very serious face and said, “Eracey, is she dying?” Through more tears I nodded my head. “The first thing I think of as a mother is you’re going to have to go through losing a best friend.”
I don’t like talking about it. I don’t like writing about. I don’t like thinking about it. I’m crying even now. I’d just rather put it out of my mind for the time being. My friend is fine. She’s not going anywhere.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
A Letter for You, My Dear
During band practice today, as I sang my harmonies I’d look over at our drummer and he’d be staring me straight in the eye. Vince has been playing drums for a few weeks now and he’s been a great addition to the team. He’s an experienced drummer and he learns well. Whenever I get up there to sing, especially during real time, he’s watching me – studying me. When I meet his gaze, he smiles like a sweet innocent boy.
I had to drive home two kids that had been around today, and Vince decided he’d join in and drive them for me. He took the keys and we ended up getting “lost” on the way home. We weaved through back roads and got farther and farther into the dark night; loving every minute of it. We talked and laughed and dreamt together for hours.
I had made Vince Michaels a mix tape that day and I brought it along so we could listen to the songs together. One of the songs was a silly one where the main instrument was a Uke called “Happy” by Never Shout Never. I told him I meant every word of that song, and he felt the same way. (Go listen, it’s a great one!)
We were embracing in front of his jeep, as he was saying his last goodbyes. “I’ll see you on Thursday,” He kissed my head. The hug kept going as they always do. We could be hugging for hours having sweet conversations together before the thought would even cross our minds that we should let go.
“That’s so far away,” I said muffled by his shirt.
“I have an idea,” He swayed with me back and forth. “Let’s write each other a letter tomorrow and then trade on Thursday.”
What a great idea. Everyone knows I can write way better than I can talk.
I had to drive home two kids that had been around today, and Vince decided he’d join in and drive them for me. He took the keys and we ended up getting “lost” on the way home. We weaved through back roads and got farther and farther into the dark night; loving every minute of it. We talked and laughed and dreamt together for hours.
I had made Vince Michaels a mix tape that day and I brought it along so we could listen to the songs together. One of the songs was a silly one where the main instrument was a Uke called “Happy” by Never Shout Never. I told him I meant every word of that song, and he felt the same way. (Go listen, it’s a great one!)
We were embracing in front of his jeep, as he was saying his last goodbyes. “I’ll see you on Thursday,” He kissed my head. The hug kept going as they always do. We could be hugging for hours having sweet conversations together before the thought would even cross our minds that we should let go.
“That’s so far away,” I said muffled by his shirt.
“I have an idea,” He swayed with me back and forth. “Let’s write each other a letter tomorrow and then trade on Thursday.”
What a great idea. Everyone knows I can write way better than I can talk.
Monday, August 30, 2010
Magic Under the Stars Tonight
He took my old acoustic and a piece of my heart. We were trying to find a quiet, secluded island where we could play music and talk freely with no interruptions. We found it in the middle of my front lawn, and there we stayed content with the company we found in each other for hours.
The stars were vibrant, they were screaming at us to be watched and admired. The heat lightening flashed through out the night, illuminating dark clouds that soon disappeared again. Here is where this beautiful boy, Vince, exposed his heart to me. It was as if he had ripped it – bloody, scarred, but still beating- out of his chest and extended his hand out to me. I took it, how could I not? I locked it up in my soul and promised to tell nobody of his secrets.
His hair fell down his forehead in sloppy swoops, and he peered through classy glasses. He told me about his tortured past, claiming he regretted nothing because it made him who he was today. He shared things that hurt him so much, things that were hard to even verbalize. Memories and confessions that no person should have had to keep locked up. He’d said I was only the third person who actually knew theses stories.
“There’s potential in us,” he said staring me right in the eyes, “I figured it was better to spill the beans now than later. I hope it doesn’t change how you view me.” I shook my head. How could anything from his past that he had no control over change how I view him? He is still perfectly flawless in my eyes.
It’s always under the stars where souls fall in love. It’s always in moments like this where hearts become entangled together for lifetimes. Isn't it funny how pain can unite us? I know for a fact that I fell for him in that moment and I replay it over and over in my head, like a song on repeat. The picture of him sitting there, with the guitar on his lap is forever engraved in my mind. And if there is a future for us, I mark tonight as the night where we officially swapped hearts.
The stars were vibrant, they were screaming at us to be watched and admired. The heat lightening flashed through out the night, illuminating dark clouds that soon disappeared again. Here is where this beautiful boy, Vince, exposed his heart to me. It was as if he had ripped it – bloody, scarred, but still beating- out of his chest and extended his hand out to me. I took it, how could I not? I locked it up in my soul and promised to tell nobody of his secrets.
His hair fell down his forehead in sloppy swoops, and he peered through classy glasses. He told me about his tortured past, claiming he regretted nothing because it made him who he was today. He shared things that hurt him so much, things that were hard to even verbalize. Memories and confessions that no person should have had to keep locked up. He’d said I was only the third person who actually knew theses stories.
“There’s potential in us,” he said staring me right in the eyes, “I figured it was better to spill the beans now than later. I hope it doesn’t change how you view me.” I shook my head. How could anything from his past that he had no control over change how I view him? He is still perfectly flawless in my eyes.
It’s always under the stars where souls fall in love. It’s always in moments like this where hearts become entangled together for lifetimes. Isn't it funny how pain can unite us? I know for a fact that I fell for him in that moment and I replay it over and over in my head, like a song on repeat. The picture of him sitting there, with the guitar on his lap is forever engraved in my mind. And if there is a future for us, I mark tonight as the night where we officially swapped hearts.
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