Day Six | Long Story

So day six. I am going to warn you this is a mild venting/memory lane blog too. A way to let go I guess.

The person you like & why you like them:

I hate to say this because I should be writing about my dude, I really should be, but you see there is the one who got away and he’s the one I will never forget.

We called him Birdy, He kinda vanished, a long time ago. Like literally vanished, him and his family, right when we were so close to finally not hiding out relationship...or half relationship, at the time we were about 15 or 16. Be came back for about a year when I was 18 and then vanished again. I loved him more than anyone should ever love anybody I think. But when he came back that year he was 100% different, but his heart was the same, behind the drugs and self hate that seemed to build up over the 3 years he was gone. And after that year he left again, saying he was bad for me, and to ruined and that I deserved better and left, left and I’ve never heard from him again. None of our friends have heard from him. It’s frightening, because I worry sometimes if he is even alive. He was my very best friend, my very first friend (like since 1st grade guys) and my first love. And we could have been forever like I honestly believe that. The last year he was here he even took me with him when he got my name tattooed on his arm, my full name, which isn’t something that easy to cover up with a picture. But I can’t forget him. Anyway to why I liked it. He would go on “Vacations” for months at a time as a kid and I would miss him like crazy.

I had always liked him. We were friends in elementary school he was two grades ahead of me, and back then I was a small think kid with the worst knobby knees. While I had lots of friends I also had lots of bullies...lots of them. And then I met Birdy, who had been my moms friends/co-workers son we found out that he went to my school and they had us meet. We became instant friends and Birdy who was naturally tall and actually much bigger than the other kids (rounder too) he protected me from my bullies. We were best friends but I had always had a small crush on him. I remember when we would have valentines day parties were gave out those cutesy cards and candy to our friends. I would always have this girl whom I made friends with that was in his grade slide a cheesy “love note” in his desk for me. Of course it was anonymous.

I like(d) him because later he told me in middle school that he knew it was me who wrote them. Without me confessing. He knew my handwriting.

I like him because we had all the same interest, since the start, but in our pre-teens/teens we found out just how much. I loved how he would listen to greenday with me and that he knew all the songs by heart like I did, and that he would play them for me to sing to on his guitar.

I liked him because we would sit outside in the killer heat of the desert summer in the middle of nowhere at the mountain base (trespassing haha) or at the park or even in the garage doing nothing, nothing but talking, laughing, cuddling, drawing, playing video games, or having water gun battles. For hours and he would never get tired of it, and ask to do that same thing again.

I loved the feel of his thick, slightly rough/kinky curled in some spots, red hair against my face or skin. It would grow like a weed and was never shorter than shoulder blade length and just be everywhere anytime I hugged him or sat on him or he laid his head in my lap.

I liked him for his deep brown eyes that almost seemed amber in dim orange light. I like that they looked so strange under his auburn eye lashes. I remember joking with him that he was a strangest ginger ever, because back then I was 100% sure all redheads had flaming red hair with matching eyebrows and eyelashes. But his were a darker shade than his hair. I liked him because he looked unique. But he would always try to hide his real eye color.

I like him because well, though he wasn’t heavily book smart. He was world smart. Because he went on “Vacations” so much he had seen nearly all of the states, I loved state history you know all the stuff only the locals really now well? The events you just can’t get from a history book. And He would share all these things with me. He would also share random stupid facts that are kinda useless to know. He could fix almost anything if it broke. I like him because he shared or tried to all he knew with me.

I like him because he would sing to me, he didn’t have an ultra pretty rock star voice, it was very deep, bass, so he would sing things to me like The Escapist, or Far from Home, he could sing to me the intro to miss murder and it was perfect and yet weird being that low. But I liked it, because it only ever happened when he was trying his damnedest to make me smile.

I liked him because he would go through back braking extremes to make me happy. He knew I liked odd shinny things and collecting thick glass from out in the desert. I remember he would sometimes go out walking in the dirt looking for glass shards for me. He would tickled my feet to get me to laugh, make funny faces, and he had this puppy out and whimper he would do if I refused to smile for him.

I liked him because nobody hated him, even though near the end he thought they did. He was the only one who hated him. He could make anyone feel warm and welcome without even trying. People flocked to him, he was just good with people, all kinds of people even the mean ones.

I liked him because he was Strong. Physically and mentally. He was a leader, he didn’t want to be a leader but he was and he always fell right into the roll. He protected all of us in my friend circle, and would feel he was responsible for everyone and we all felt the same about him.

I liked him because he loved his mom. He loved her above all else, and having ran away from an abusive father, he was supper protective of her. And while when he was with us or int he streets he could throw down curses and be unruly sometimes he was always a perfect gentleman with his mother.

I liked him because of the billions of freckles on his body, they nearly covered his nose and cheeks and arms. He starting getting tattoo’s to hide the ones of his arms. Because he didn’t like them. But I always found them adorable.

I liked him because he made me feel like I could do anything. I had social anxiety even back then but when he was with me? I just didn’t care what the people around me were doing, thinking or anything. If they were laughing at me I didn’t care, if they thought I was strange I didn’t care. If someone came up to me and I started to tremble a bit he would take my hand and all my shaking would stop, and I instantly felt better and could actually talk freely with people as long as my hand was in his. Anytime I said I can’t he would tell me to try, and any time I said I would try he would tell me to just do it. And I would always believe I could.

I liked him because we protected each other. He protected me from others and I protected him from himself. More and more he started to hate himself constantly picking at himself for things he saw as flaws that I found strangely beautiful that made him w ho he was in personality. And I would help him see that and he would help me see that the world doesn’t have to be so scary.

I liked him because we were both nerds. Because he never forgot me, even though he was active and volunteered in everything. Because of the kisses we shared, and the hugs, and the cuddling. Because of how he used to look at me, hold my face, kiss my eyelids and finger tips. How he would rest his head on my chest just to hear my heart beating and then have me do the same to him.

I liked him because He used to get so huffy when I gushed over another guy, even though we were never legitimately together. He would still get so upset and would try and play it off, and fail.

I liked him because even though I would flirt with other guys he never even glanced at another girl. And vowed against it even though I told him it was ok.

I liked him for so many reasons, and it’s not even liked...I loved him.

And now?

Yes I like him or else I wouldn’t have wrote all this or used him as the subject, but I like him...love him so much that him just poofing hurts so much that my love my fondness for him is slowly turning into hate. A hate so I can protect myself from how much still loving him hurts.

I feel like he would have been the one sometimes.

But I can’t blame him entirely. I mean his “vacations” were never vacations. You see he grew up with an abusive father, who would try to hunt down his mother. They were forced to move for safety reasons, they were never given any options to stay, that had to go, and every time they had to stay at some strange place, with fake names until his father was tracked down and hauled off back to jail for breaking the restraining order. Then they could come back. True eventually his father did some horrible things and got sent to prison for years. And then Birdy was finally free.

But at the same time he wasn’t because now he didn’t know how to stay in one place for to long, and all his hurts and insecurities were tossed into drugs, fighting, and booze.

I watched him dwindle down to nothing in that last year I saw him.

But sometimes I would still like closure. I think that I might just write a story about all of this, a sort of log of what happened. Its really sad, but I have seen so many people right down their stories, their true stories about their life and share them here on Mibba. I find those of you that have so strong. And I think I want to give it a try, just writing this made me let go just a little. I think writing it all in detail and posting would be like me letting go of it all.