What's-His-Name
Chapter Two
I know something important happened this time a couple of years ago. I can’t for the life of me remember what it is. I just have this feeling. Then again I can’t remember that much of my life. Mom and Spencer help me deal with it now. To begin with I freaked out. Just because I deal with it doesn’t mean I like it. I wish I was normal. I wish I could remember, all I can remember is the last three years of my life give or take a couple of months. I can’t remember so many members of my family and friends. I had to get to know them all again.
“Oh my god Ryan is that you?” I hear. I turn round and see this guy standing there. I feel like I should know who he is. He looks familiar but I don’t know who he is. I turn back round and continue on my way.
“Ryan?” He asks again.
“Yes that’s my name but I think you’re talking to the wrong Ryan, I don’t know who you are sorry,” I say, it may sound harsh but I don’t know who he is and I don’t really want to talk to strangers.
“Don’t you recognise me, I haven’t changed that much,” He exclaims.
“I’m sorry I don’t know you,” I mutter turning round and walking again. Is he another person from my past or just some one who thinks I’m someone I’m not?
“Ry?” he whispers.
“I’m sorry,”
“No I’m Sorry.” What the hell I don’t know him what the fuck could he be sorry for?
At home I find myself sitting with my note book looking out my window. I do this a lot. I use writing as an escape, you can make people up that understand what you’re going through. Not people like Mom and Spence that try to understand. You can make anyone do anything. If you’re happy your characters can be happy is your sad or depressed you can do things with the characters that make you feel better with out having to do it yourself. I guess you could say writing stops me hurting myself and I guess that’s exactly what it does. I love writing. I always have as far as I know, but then again that’s not really saying much. I write anything, stories, poems, songs anything I feel like. It’s my own little escape. Right now though I can’t concentrate on my writing. All I can think about that is that guy. The one that talked to me in the street. Thinking about it he was very hot. Oh yeah that’s another thing I figured out about myself, I’m gay. I don’t exactly hide it but I don’t tell everyone either. I know there are people that would hurt me if they found out. Great now my thoughts are wandering again. Ever since I saw that guy earlier I haven’t been able to concentrate on any thing, which is really strange for me as I can usually concentrate on things.
“What’s wrong Ryan?” My Mom asks when she sees me sitting there.
“I don’t know what to write,” I say simply.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah,”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes…no… I don’t know,” I say stumbling over my words. I really don’t know if I’m okay or not.
“What’s wrong?” She questions kindly.
“There was this guy in town today, he came up to me and started talking to me but I don’t know who he is but he looks so familiar, like I should know who he is and he was really hot,” I say whispering the last bit.
“It’ll be okay, you never know you might remember one day, don’t give up all hope and he knew who you are?”
“Yeah he kept talking to me like we we’re friends or something.” I say slowly, Mom just nods.
“Oh my god Ryan is that you?” I hear. I turn round and see this guy standing there. I feel like I should know who he is. He looks familiar but I don’t know who he is. I turn back round and continue on my way.
“Ryan?” He asks again.
“Yes that’s my name but I think you’re talking to the wrong Ryan, I don’t know who you are sorry,” I say, it may sound harsh but I don’t know who he is and I don’t really want to talk to strangers.
“Don’t you recognise me, I haven’t changed that much,” He exclaims.
“I’m sorry I don’t know you,” I mutter turning round and walking again. Is he another person from my past or just some one who thinks I’m someone I’m not?
“Ry?” he whispers.
“I’m sorry,”
“No I’m Sorry.” What the hell I don’t know him what the fuck could he be sorry for?
At home I find myself sitting with my note book looking out my window. I do this a lot. I use writing as an escape, you can make people up that understand what you’re going through. Not people like Mom and Spence that try to understand. You can make anyone do anything. If you’re happy your characters can be happy is your sad or depressed you can do things with the characters that make you feel better with out having to do it yourself. I guess you could say writing stops me hurting myself and I guess that’s exactly what it does. I love writing. I always have as far as I know, but then again that’s not really saying much. I write anything, stories, poems, songs anything I feel like. It’s my own little escape. Right now though I can’t concentrate on my writing. All I can think about that is that guy. The one that talked to me in the street. Thinking about it he was very hot. Oh yeah that’s another thing I figured out about myself, I’m gay. I don’t exactly hide it but I don’t tell everyone either. I know there are people that would hurt me if they found out. Great now my thoughts are wandering again. Ever since I saw that guy earlier I haven’t been able to concentrate on any thing, which is really strange for me as I can usually concentrate on things.
“What’s wrong Ryan?” My Mom asks when she sees me sitting there.
“I don’t know what to write,” I say simply.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah,”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes…no… I don’t know,” I say stumbling over my words. I really don’t know if I’m okay or not.
“What’s wrong?” She questions kindly.
“There was this guy in town today, he came up to me and started talking to me but I don’t know who he is but he looks so familiar, like I should know who he is and he was really hot,” I say whispering the last bit.
“It’ll be okay, you never know you might remember one day, don’t give up all hope and he knew who you are?”
“Yeah he kept talking to me like we we’re friends or something.” I say slowly, Mom just nods.