Diary of a Teenage Loner

Diary Entry Three: Well, The Third You Know of at Least

Well.

So okay, it looks bad I know; one teenage loner finds another teenage loner and they fall in 'love' and live happily ever after, rebelling against their old system of aloneness and moving onto a life of fuzzy bunnies and frolicking fairies.

It is essentially my story, sans fairies and bunnies. Maybe the love word didn't come into it straight away, and I certainly never did say it at first. At his Mum's funeral I did. It may have been prompted by guilt (the actual saying of the words) but I did mean them. It was just after college had finished that she died. Overdose. He was upset, surprisingly, I was not (unsurprisingly). The woman was evil, simply put, and I hated her with every ounce of my withered black heart, but I resisted dancing on her grave for him.

It was very hard to resist, but I managed. My brothers' formidable glares all the way through the proceedings were enough to tell me I would be in deep doodoo should I have tried, and when you are the shortest its wise not to anger the giants.

Unfortunately, my mother insisted he come to stay with us before we went to university. I do not share very well, not that I tried very hard, but one has to make certain sacrifices for those they love. (And God to I hate that saying). The summer wasn't too bad, in retrospect, apart from the fact he left his socks everywhere (I even had the misfortune of finding myself snuggled against one when I woke up one morning) and he never made his bed and left enough water on the floor after a bath to drown a whale.

Venting is healthy so I am told, but is it really that much to ask for a dry floor so one doesn't break their neck when brushing their teeth? Didn't think so.

But he did make up for it though, in some ways, as much as it pains me to say. Every morning I would wake up with some kind of flower from the garden next to my pillow (because he wakes up crazily early and I sleep until noon). I never had the heart to tell him I am not a flower guy (I mean who is, really?) but I did like the fact it irritated my mother, who prized herself on her flowers.

Of course Trent got away with it because she had practically adopted him as another son. He even got the sex talk I never had, much to his disgust (and my delight).

Sex was surprisingly a constant factor in our relationship in the beginning. It was my way of showing I cared without saying it, and hey, it was pleasurable so we all won. Especially Little Erik.

Now we are at university, living in separate dorms mind, and going about things in our own way, not really caring what people think. Of course, sod's law dictates he is the most popular guy in the whole year, meaning I have to attend most social affairs with him, pretending to be interested in some four foot nothing slash crazy girl try and make idle conversation. I know it's hard for me to judge people on their height, but she asked for it. Especially after all those questions about our sex life.

So my ever loving diary, that is that. I'm still a bastard at heart, who loves nothing more than crushing people's dreams (especially slash fan girls who insist on asking if I bottom) and generally making fun of the world around him. I am just his bastard though, as corny as it sounds. And does it destroy and credibility I had to say I like the position?

Yes, okay it does. But do I give a fuck?

Guess.

Well, I just wanna say sorry for taking so long. I have been so busy and it's not an excuse I know, but I never forgot about the story and I want to thank anyone out there who may have read this in passing or to anyone that reviewed, I hope it was somewhat enjoyable.

Anywho, thanks again and I hope the last instalment end its nicely :)

M.P.