Friday, 05/07/04 - 10:14 pm.
The first time I saw you...the first time I saw you, you were sitting on that spot of yours, alone. And I looked at you, for a long time -I'm not ashamed to stare at people- and I wondered "what's she thinking? She's not studying, she's not reading anything, she's just there, sitting alone...what the hell is she thinking?". And I got the impression that you were very patient.
It's funny how your life changes in a week...or even less, three days. On monday, he was only DenimJacketGuy, some kid I liked to see walk by because he looked hardcore. On wednesday he was Trent, Cel's odd friend. Today, friday, he's Joseph. Just Joseph.
I ran into Maniac today, first off. Sweet Jesus, what a crazy man. And now not only I know Joseph's friends, but also my friends know him and his friends. It's so odd, making more than one friend a month. When Maniac came up to me and Victoria this afternoon, I discovered they'd already met, and they started to talk about Finding Nemo.
Anyway, Maniac is very odd, but he makes me feel very special. In a nutshell, he tells me I'm a mindfuck. He keeps saying he likes my theories, that I've made a good point...Lee (he calls me Lee, duh) I'm guessing you must be extremely good at debating. As a matter of fact, I am (one of the very few things I'm good at). And I don't know how he was able to tell that. I was just telling him that I wasn't going to breed because I don't like the human race, that I appreciate homosexuals because -among other reasons- they can't breed, and that every time a man hits a woman, a feminist is born. Just silly stuff of my mine. And not in a very defensive way. I said it in a casual, almost lazy way.
You MUST talk with my friends. They'd get a fuckin' kick out of your theories. Why, thank you, you maniac (sometimes, out of the blue, he starts jumping, like he's rope-skipping).
That encounter happened during my spare hour, in which I didn't have any class. I was with Victoria, too, but we went our separate ways when she found some friends and started to talk to them. I walked Maniac to the cafeteria, and then I made my way back to my classroom, just to sit around until class started.
I was alone, and Joseph was walking by. He approached and asked if he could sit with me...he's like that, he always asks you if you mind. So he sat near me, and finished his cigarette. He threw it away and I picked it up. I cleaned the ashes and removed the filter. The rest of the cigarette I put it in his pocket, "throw it in the garbage", I said, being as sweet as possible. And he said "ok". The filter, he tied it to my shoelace, after asking me if it was ok for him to do that.
I don't know for how long we talked, but it felt like hours. In a good way. Like I could've stayed like that forever. He says he likes it when I rock myself (aside from the black hole in my stomach and the mouth-biting, I've also developed an autistic behavior). He often tells me "I like this and this about you", or that I'm unpredictable or such. Yeah, ok, basically that I'm a mindfuck. Ego boost, ego boost!
- Joseph: so how come...you are so original?
- Me: I don't know...it must be the (Converse All-Stars) shoes.
- Joseph: No. It's your eyes.
- Me: what about them?
- Joseph: they are very expressive.
I told him it must be the make-up. Nobody had told me that before, and since I've just started wearing make-up, I figued "oh, well, it's the mascara". He said I don't need make-up, that it's just garbage. "I know, it'll match with me, then". And he laughed. When he was still DenimJacketGuy to me, I never thought he'd be capable of laughing...he's just got this serious "don't mess with me" appearance.
I'm going to tell you something I have only told Cel...you and her are the only people who can get me to laugh in a heartbeat. Ok, preach on, brother.
- Joseph: (...) and this protocol...
- Me: what protocol?
- Joseph: you know, this protocol...I am strong, you are weak...
- Me HA!
- Joseph: and there's a protocol...what's that ("HA!) supposed to mean?
I didn't get that protocol thing. He said something about not taking advtange of me, but I'm not quite sure what he meant (calm down, he's not a criminal...he's a big cutie, I tell you). I suppose he thought I was expecting him to write me a poem or something.
His story? Yeah, I kind of have his story now. We were somehow a little apart from the world (still in the hallway, but behind a column...I was sitting on a rock) so not many friends came by to say hi to him.
So...he was going to jail. Just because he wanted to. He wanted to spend four years there and that is all. But then I met Cel, and she was the only one who could talk me out of it. Then he said he still was going to jail, and that's when I met you. Ok, dude, rock on.
He's 24. I thought he'd be like 20, 21 at the most. But he's 24, he's a fucking man, not a boy (so I suppose Fher must be like 26...God, I suck so much at guessing age). AND he's got a tattoo, he showed it to me. It's all around his ankle.
It also turned out that he worked on the street parallel to the street I live on. There's a very small mall there, there are just about ten shops. So he worked in one. I told him where I lived from that spot as a start. He could never get lost, it's the only house with blue bars and yellow garage walls and red doors (it's a recent change, all the bars -here houses have some sort of bars, like a fort, for security- are green or black, so my house stands out).
He left when Victoria came up and sat with us. He always does that, he leaves me when somebody else arrives. So he stood up, shook my hand...well, no, not really shook. He just held it, as he said he was at my feet. Ok, party on, man.
Whether he likes me or not, I am so screwed. See, if he doesn't like me...yeah, alright, I suppose I'll learn to live with that. But it'd take me quite some time to get used to that. And if he likes me...Jesus Christ, he's 24, smokes and has a tattoo. I'm sure my parents would be thrilled for me.
But hey, that's not going to happen. He likes me, but as that silly, odd person who makes him laugh with a short sentence, and makes his mind stop in awe. Well, yeah...I'd take that, that's enough for me.
In class, after he left, I noticed my right hand (we shook hands, right?) smelled like second-hand smoke. I would never smoke (like, omg, my teeth!), but I kind of...liked that. Just because it reminded me of him. Yesterday someone gave him a cigarette and I offered him fire (I always carry a lighter). You don't mind?. I don't mind. Really?. Yes. Are you sure?. Yes, goddammit!
He's very strange. He makes me feel strange.