We were just playing.

It was the hill behind the cluster of houses in the neighboorhood we both lived in. The North Carolina I knew and could remember was a overly saturated and colorful version of itself, brighter and brighter on account of being past.

The buzzing of spring just barely starting up after the sudden and stupid snow kept us from hearing it. I loved it.

Jordan...it was hard to get a read on what is was he liked. He didn't hate it, but...


I only know what I hate.

We didn't actually have much reason to like each other outside of being two stock quiet weirdos, sitting to the side when it could happen in school. That's how we ended up hanging out so much, in spite of everything. Our families wouldn't like each other. Our friends (if we had ever decided having them was cool) wouldn't have liked each other or understood why we hung out.

But I know.

I hate Jordan and I think he's better off dead. We're togther all the time, and I'm around him more than anybody. Who has more right to make that judgement than me? Who would be more justified knowing what an absolute pile of garbage his-those people he lived with were making him!

That's what I told myself. I've always been like that. I admit it. I love people and then they do one thing and i can never see them or...value them the same, ever again.

So I hated him, and it grew and spread like an infection.

But even something so strong as the surge of blood pressure he gave when he did something stupid or kept talking about something no matter how many times I asked him to stop, I still-

-I have to admit this...I'm not proud! But, I told him to leave me alone and when he started avoiding me, I was furious. I hate you, but don't leave me.

It's like being used to smoking a pack of Marlboros or the horrible attacks of weather. You didn't have to like any of these things to be used to them.

His stupid laugh and snipes made me gag but it felt wrong when a day went by without them.

At least, now they do, now that I did what I did.

Now I