Post by melissa16 on Jun 12, 2004 17:39:39 GMT -5
He was the first 'older' guy that I officially called a friend.
I remember the day I met him, it was a Saturday, about 2pm and I had just returned from a exhausting swim-practice. He stood up and asked my brother to indroduce us-my brothers friends never did that!
I was immediatley starstruck by this tall, deep-voiced person that had stalked into my life out of seemingly nowhere. He had the most amazing eyes I had ever seen, chocolate brown with tiny flecks of gold in them, depicting every single emotion that he felt, he was an amazing person, inside and out.
About a year into the friendship with my brother, he had adopted me as a sort of little sister, but the 'non-annoying' type, as he said. He would teach me how to play easy pieces on the piano, kick my brothers butt at playstation, and most importantly, he spoke to me as an equal, never just as James' sister. By the time I was 13, I knew that life without him would be empty.
Sadly, somewhere along the line, the friendship that had developed with my brother ended. Social differences apparently. I scarcely saw him nowadays, and when I did the tension between him and James was unbearable, so I never really stuck around to find out how he was, where he was, what he was doing? I was too damn selfish.
To cut a long story short, just before my fifteenth birthday he dissappeared for a while. I knew that he'd been messing around with drugs for some time, and later that year I heard that he had been arrested, my sweet friend and his crystal-clear eyes were no more, what was left was a lost, vulnerable boy, and in me-an irrepressible feeling of guilt.
He was alot of firsts for me.
He was the first person I ever watched shooting stars with, the first shoulder I cried on, my first confidant. The very first person I went to with a problem, the first and only person I ever allowed borrow my lucky paintbrush, the first person to stay awake with me all night.
I think I can safely say hat he was the first person I truly cared about.
I remember the day I met him, it was a Saturday, about 2pm and I had just returned from a exhausting swim-practice. He stood up and asked my brother to indroduce us-my brothers friends never did that!
I was immediatley starstruck by this tall, deep-voiced person that had stalked into my life out of seemingly nowhere. He had the most amazing eyes I had ever seen, chocolate brown with tiny flecks of gold in them, depicting every single emotion that he felt, he was an amazing person, inside and out.
About a year into the friendship with my brother, he had adopted me as a sort of little sister, but the 'non-annoying' type, as he said. He would teach me how to play easy pieces on the piano, kick my brothers butt at playstation, and most importantly, he spoke to me as an equal, never just as James' sister. By the time I was 13, I knew that life without him would be empty.
Sadly, somewhere along the line, the friendship that had developed with my brother ended. Social differences apparently. I scarcely saw him nowadays, and when I did the tension between him and James was unbearable, so I never really stuck around to find out how he was, where he was, what he was doing? I was too damn selfish.
To cut a long story short, just before my fifteenth birthday he dissappeared for a while. I knew that he'd been messing around with drugs for some time, and later that year I heard that he had been arrested, my sweet friend and his crystal-clear eyes were no more, what was left was a lost, vulnerable boy, and in me-an irrepressible feeling of guilt.
He was alot of firsts for me.
He was the first person I ever watched shooting stars with, the first shoulder I cried on, my first confidant. The very first person I went to with a problem, the first and only person I ever allowed borrow my lucky paintbrush, the first person to stay awake with me all night.
I think I can safely say hat he was the first person I truly cared about.