If today was not an endless highway

Let's see....what happened today. Nothing new.

It is strange; in my head, there are so many secrets I want to spill, things that have happened long ago. Secrets, half truths that I can somehow feel comfortable spilling to strangers or possible acquaintances. It is the mystery of anonymity. I can see "nothing new" with a bad conscience: I admire the way humans can lie, to themselves and others, almost seemlessly.

Because I feel the bubbling secrets of old that have renewed themselve freshly humming inside of me like some transistor radio, I feel the need to talk about Sarah. I almost wish she was reading this because at first...well, let me start from the beginning.

I first noticed the feeling of uncomfort a couple months ago. I had that quivering feeling that people tend to get when they are being stared at, or observed. I looked around and the only gaze that met mine was Sarah, but she was turned in such a way that she had to go out of her way to look at me, could only have been looking at me. I met her eyes and she quickly turned away, in the furtive method the starers and stalkers use when they want to remain undetected, a movement that only serves to make them more suspicious.


This continued for quite awhile, added in with her sitting so that her legs would brush against mine. I would move my legs away and she'd move closer. And so on until we were both awkwardly contorted away and towards one another respectively. It could have been paranoia but she was creeping me out. There were several incidents with unnecessary touching involved, nothing past PG rating but suspicious enough. Ashley and I decided on two things:

1. she was a lesbian
2. her friends would unceremoniously abandon her if they knew

We devised not to mention the incidents further. But somewhere between my disgust, inference, and curiousity...I found I wouldn't have a problem with her, which was an interesting decision to come across. I would never confront her on the issue but I think about her a little bit. I wish I could tell her, let her know that she's safe with me, but on the slight chance I have the wrong impression or the more likely chance that she's unwilling to admit the truth, she'd most likely pummel me.

And Sarah could beat me up twice a day and three times on Sunday.

Currently reading: "The Tenth Circle" by Jodi Picoult
Currently listening to: "Cigarette" by Graham Colton Band

(I imagine our conversations going something like this:)


A: You, you gotta be the one, who's in on the action.
I'm wondering when we're leaving.

S: You gotta meet everyone before it's all over.
Why? They're gonna be here next weekend.

A: And you gotta be something else,
Cause we all got older with you.

S: You, you're gonna be someone,

A: You make me wanna smoke a cigarette.

S:You make me wanna be someone else.

A: You make me wanna be somebody you would leave,

S:And I could forget.

A: You gotta be the one to get a reaction.

S: I don't want anyone to see me.

A: And you gotta be something else.