A Search for Paradise

I'd always secretly wished my life would turn out like a movie; all these ungainly fumbles and fucked up words would somehow sew together and make every night, spent awake going over my ruined conversations, worth it. It never happened though, and another thing I'd learned from 12 years of school, is that sometimes you just have to give up. Sometimes it doesn't matter how many inspirational posters fill the otherwise plain walls, or how many teachers blab on about potential, we’re all human beings, and sometimes it was okay to give up.

One thing that I wasn't giving up on was Noah, even after I convinced myself that I didn't have a "crush" on him, I was simply lacking in the friend department; I was just aching for attention, which was for the most part true. It seemed like forever since I started senior year, I was sort of displaced from everything and I needed friends to ground me so I didn't blow away and become bat-shit insane. Noah seemed like the guy for that, also Noah was a nice contrast to the people I knew. He was childish, but not immature (truthfully he was more mature than I was, and I was almost 2 years older, maybe less). He was sensitive, I saw right through his whole act. Maybe it was because I'd talked to him a few times outside of school, but I could tell he worried about what people thought, and I'm assuming everyone thinking he’s some homicidal maniac, this probably isn't very good for his self esteem and whilst thinking about this, I tried to remember the last time I really cared about anybody's feelings. I came to the realization that I am still in fact a piece of shit either way. I did feel a budding friendship between Noah and I, even if I face fucked every conversation we had. I made yet another vow to try and be less awkward, and fill the silences a bit more. Maybe along the way I could help Noah's self esteem, but truthfully I'm no Dr. Phil; helping people was never my forte. I went to bed determined to have an actual conversation with Noah tomorrow.

For the most part it worked, except when I ended up babbling endlessly about Rigor Mortis like I was a true crime expert and though Noah didn't seem uninterested, he probably would've been more interested if I'd picked a different subject. A subject like his favorite band, (which from his conversation with Tanner was Nirvana) or how his lunch was, but something was better than nothing. He did, however, ask if I was going to the park after lunch, and with my mouth full of food I did say "Yes," like an ill-mannered-baboon. "Do you mind if I ride with you?" he asked. I wished I'd cleaned out my car before, but I still agreed.

On our way, I managed to ask him how he could just leave school without his parents caring, to which he told me he just lived with his mom, and she didn't really care what he did. It’s funny because before my parents buried themselves nose-deep in work. I would've envied him for having a Mom who didn't care, but now I just felt a pang in my chest again, the one I tried so hard to suppress. I nodded knowingly "What do you do for fun?" I asked. It was one of those preset questions that adults asked in these situations. He shrugged "Listen to music, and play video games, nothing fancy. How about you? What do you do?" I felt his brown eyes burning into the side of my face, I swallowed thickly. I should have shot him a look, to show I was acknowledging him, but somehow I couldn't. I kept my eyes glued to the road, and then I realized a potential problem that could kill our conversation. I don't do anything. "Smoke pot, and eat…” was all I managed to choke up. He chuckled, "Nothing wrong with that," he said. I relaxed upon realizing that I had a white knuckled grip on the steering wheel.

I pulled into the parking lot of the park and we made our way back to the bench. Maybe it would've been some habitual friend thing if that weren't the only bench in the whole park. "I have a question for you," Noah piped up. I glanced at him, and man did he look nice biting his lip nervously. I turned away to avoid staring “Just a friend, just a friend, just a friend", I repeated in my mind "Yeah, okay", I said belatedly. Noah made a face, but he quickly relaxed. "Why do you want to be my friend?" he asked. There it was, a question that could seal my fate, and make Noah hate me for life if answered wrong. "You're a nice guy…" I said. My relieved sigh was probably too loud. "Well, I think you're pretty nice yourself," he said. I smiled genuinely. "Thanks," I let the smile fade. It was my turn to bite my lip until it split; I ran my hands over my face. He chuckled again, "Sorry, I'm tired" I lied. I wasn't ruining the conversation, but I could feel the silence in every inch of my bones. I ached for a comfortable silence, or maybe even a conversation, but it didn't happen.

Noah seemed relaxed, his shoulders back and a neutral look on his face. The exact opposite of me, with my back hunched over and my clammy sweaty skin. I'm sure I looked like I needed an ambulance, and I hoped Noah wouldn't notice, but then he did notice me. "Whoa, are you okay?" is what he said. I nodded immediately, and smiled a not so genuine smile. "Good," he said quietly. "It’s almost time for 8th period," I said and he almost looked hurt. I almost wished I hadn't said anything at all , and I don't even know why. "I was wondering if you might take me home after school, so I could just stay here," he asked with a pouty-puppy-dog-look, on his face. Though cute, it wasn't at all necessary. I accepted his offer far too fast for it to not seem desperate and creepy.

For the most part the car ride to Noah's house was silent, besides the monotone voice of my GPS, until I pulled up beside his house. I turned to face him he almost looked like he'd just turn around and not say anything. Then he opened his mouth, "You know you shouldn't worry so much about saying something wrong, it's okay," he gave me a small smile. I smiled back, because I knew deep down he was right. We exchanged goodbyes and I sped off. For the first time in a while, I didn't listen to sad 90’s alternative rock. All the way home, his voice echoed in my head. "It's okay," he'd said and honestly nowadays nothing was okay. I hadn't been "okay" in a very long time, and though I could whine and bitch about it, I chose to push it into the furthest part of my mind. I’d let it rot in the recesses of my mind, which I admit is dumb, and unhealthy. Then again so was I, so it really wasn't that much of a surprise