CURRENTLY BEING EDITED !

07/19/09

Here's the story:
I was always jealous of my best friend. Even if he went through the shittiest childhood (having been brought up in foster homes), he was able to excel in his life. Joey was always smiling when he was around the right people (but still always nice around the wrong people). But there were still those days when he wouldn't speak to anyone (we called those days Low Days). It sucks to admit it, but I wish that he'd still have those days. Those were the days when I'd spend all day and night with him in bed. He would cry to me, I would do the same to him; we'd cuddle and just think. He'd bring up the most random topics that ended up being such meaningful things. When Joey was sad, Joey was mine- he had been mine from second grade onwards. Now he's not mine.

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"Gwen, I met this amazing guy," Joey said to me one July day. We were on summer break and it was a three of us at the shore house we'd rented out. Joey, myself, and Ted. Ted was no one special; he hung around the house, he didn't speak much, ate little and paid half of the rent. I had met Ted during one of my Psychology classes in high school. He was a character, and still is.
"Oh, really?" My voice had cracked, I knew that it did. My voice always cracks. No, I'm not a little 12 year old boy going through puberty. I'm a female that's 21 years young, and that summer I had just turned 18. It was the summer before fall term at the local university. Joey and I, being as inseparable as we were, had decided to go off to university together. It seemed like such a good idea then.
"His name is Ryan," Joey gushed, closing his eyes with a dreamy smile playing at the corners of his lips.