He can't do it.

It might have been too much for Derek to be the person everyone smiles at and depends on for a laugh. I tried many times to be that person and I've either failed, put in very little and extremely lazy effort, or completely lost interest in making people that didn't even care about me laugh. I can understand that it might have been overwhelming. Long Island is also a miserable place; much of the school year took place in Winter. There were dark days, well, grey days (or gray) and they had no interest in helping you through your mood. Take some it took it all to get through those fucking Winters. No one knew how to dress any warmer, and I remember the days I spent looking terrible in a button down, sweater, goodie, and jacket... and then seeing someone walking around with an "I don't give a shit" look with an open jacket, short sleeve polo, and smoking a cigarette. I shivered the entire way to class. I slipped on the ice that the school refused to clean up, and as I fell and stood up (making both look as ridiculous as possible, mind you. I f people want to watch, they deserve a show I think) I wondered why they didn't get rid of the fucking ice. Too easy.

So how would Derek trip, or how did Derek feel about Winter? I could guess, but I don't really know. Now that you mention it (I mentioned it, well, mention makes it insignificant and its not, at least I am still trying to prove to myself that it isn't insignificant) Where to... go back, so Derek snowboarded and lived in Vermont. So maybe he was okay with it. But maybe he wasn't. You know, oh okay hold on. I didn't really know him that well. Maybe better than most, but did I, I don't know. I don't think so. I'm fairly private, but it's only because I think people don't care. If they want to know, they ask. When people ask why I live with my grandparents, it's uncomfortable because it seems weird. It's not, but the situation is one that people don't know how to react to. Which is fine. But aside from being very out-of-the-ordinary (maybe I'm normal, let's not start saying that I'm self-stamping myself, if I am or amn't it is neither a good or bad thing). I had a regular childhood. The worst part is that I don't know who my Dad is, the worst part about that is that I think my Mom slept around in high school, the kicking part of that is that I might never know who he is because she doesn't, and what's worse with or in that is that I want to know and to beat everything, I only want to know because I feel that at this point in my life after not caring for so long, I feel like I should.

Speaking of self, dot dot dot dot, because that's what I'm doing, we can I can go on about how this is supposed to be about Derek. But I don't know anything about him, Maybe that's why it's no big deal to him. Big deal. So I end up writing about myself, my experiences with him turn into my similar experiences, etc. How about stopping? Who wants to write about how they're doing it all wrong, then read it over? Well, there you go.

I invented a frisbee game. One team versus one team. I was 11 or 12. My cousin Matthew was on the opposing side. Team A got the frisbee and threw it to B, back + forth, whoever did not catch it, Iwhatever team threw it got a point. And we all took turns throwing. Matt was terrible and we laughed at hi, he couldn't throw well. He got upset and said something like "Try this one!" and was absolutely serious when he said it. He jerked the frisbee, well he jerked his entire arm around in every direction (one of us counted, I later proposed we study the move to see if it at all would prove useful in other recreational/professional activities/battles) and threw it, it landed directly on the ground and rolled towards us. From whatever show he saw that in (he was 8 or 9), where the underdog does this strange maybe not strange but does something and wins. The reality was actually the show with someone about to do something serious, then it blows up in his face and we get the punchline.

This isn't writing. I toyed with the idea of doing an open mic, only because I just went to one, but what is this? Self-satisfying, self-gratifying, there's modesty and insecurity, but do I really feel that way? How do you know? It's garbage. What will I do with this?

I don't know Derek, he doesn't know me. He has no problem forgetting me and everything we had as friends. I can't , and there's no answer why. I'm not discovering anything, it's all just terribly warm, isn't it? Isn't it warm there, old friend? Did you just think or me, or was it someone else, like Ryan? DO YOU KNOW THAT I'M THE ONLY ONE THAT CALLS YOU DEREK, IN FACT, IS THIS FOR YOU, DEREK? AS I WRITE ABOUT MYSELF and fall into your stories, lightly, maybe it's really for you. And I get scared, I get nervous because everything you've done and said enforces this thought - the existence of this writing, it goes on and on, it will bother you. You will hate it. And I write this, knowingly. Would you take action? Legally take action? I wouldn't put it past you, or blame you. Know this, though - I just want to be friends again. And I really try not to make this creepy, but the mind is creepy. I guess. I don't know, that's awful. That's not writing. But don't take any of this as a threat, I'm so scared that this will be taken the wrong way, my hands are not the hands of old Chapter 27. 

I was too nervous to make that phone call, but I will soon, I think.