As They Say - (Revised) - 32. Entry 40-41

6th June 1991:

I hate missing sessions to write. I'm itching these days to tell you what’s happening. I must get myself checked out if I keep referring to this book as a person. It can't be healthy… can it? Christ, I have no idea, but hey, I guess there could be worse things than talking to a book; then again, isn’t that how writers go crazy? They spend too much time talking to the book or themselves. I saw that somewhere, or maybe read it… or perhaps I'm starting to get weird from all the writing I'm doing. I know I'm not writing a book or anything; I'm talking about myself. Besides, it feels funny somehow; I never imagined my life would be all that interesting, though six diaries later would suggest otherwise.

Today was an okay day. I bumped into Eli in town with Ross, and we decided to play a little basketball. Later in the evening, it turned into a football game on the green across from the school. The old folks hate us playing ball there. They say it's destroying the grass, and I'd have to protest and say that the green still looks the same as it always does.

Though that's not the reason I'm writing this entry. I don't want to go on forever because my wrist is a little tired from excessive use today in other leisurely activities, if you get my drift.

The real reason I'm writing at the moment is that after lunch, when the basketball game was over, we went back to Eli's and played some more of his video games. It was okay for the most part, but Eli and Ross got into a tie or something. What Ross said at the moment must have been taken as an insult by Eli because the two boys got a little heated. I wasn't expecting Ross to be mouthy, but he had some crude swearwords in there.

I shouldn’t have expected him just to sit it out and let Eli walk all over him either, and I don't expect Eli to do the same. I broke it up without any bloody noses or broken furniture like a WWE match and came home. That goddamn game is so competitive that the people playing it become stuck up assholes if someone says something slightly out of context or if it upsets their buzz.

I hope they make up; I don't want them fighting; they are all I really have. So having them battle is not in the best interests of everyone in the group. At least it didn't get physical. Ross left in his mood and went off to sulk. So, I just went home and worked on my railcar model.

I'm about to have dinner now, so later, I guess.

Adam

***

7th June 1991:

I have never watched Den TV for six consecutive hours straight. I got up early to make it up to Ross but him and his grandparents weren't next door. So, instead, I lounged around— for the most part— watching The Den. Episode after episode, only to be interrupted by info commercials and Ray D'Arcy talking smack. I watched Scooby-Doo and other animated cartoons. Although, if I must say, I don't think it was as bad as I thought it would be. You're never too old for Scooby-Doo. I never realised it as a kid, but Shaggy is a stoner. Could the entire TV series be a dream within his mind or something because he's high? Maybe that's why a Great Dane talks. That's a funny notion, lol. I swear, the more I come to realise the absurd jokes adults use in kids things… the more I think. I'm not so sure.

After lunch, Ross came home; he was in high-spirits. I heard the car doors closing, and as soon as I detected that, I didn't wait for him to knock. I left the TV and went down the driveway. We bumped into each other by the blind spot at the end of the two entrances. The two of us did it unexpectedly, but it was all solved with a chuckle. That reminds me, I should turn off the TV when I leave next time. I was determined to see Ross; I forgot that I left it on. My Mam gave me an ear-full at dinner about it.

Anyway, after we bumped into each other, Ross didn't hesitate on wanting to wrap his arms around me and pulled me into a hug. I felt flattered, sure, though all this sudden lovey-dovey stuff is weird somehow. I have never felt it before, so I'm not sure how I should feel about it now either. Call me crazy, but it feels weird having Ross clinging to me. I mean, I've wanted it, and I’ve waited so long for this, but it just feels... I don’t know… Never mind, forget I mentioned it.

After we broke the hug, the two of us smirked at each other. I guess by the time I got to the end of the driveway, I didn't know what to do. I had set out to meet Ross because my brain told me to go see him the minute I heard the doors closing. Then when I got there, I couldn't actually do anything.

Finally, Ross said, "What's wrong?"

From the way I was looking at him, Ross felt uncomfortable. I must've looked dorky.

All along, I did nothing but contemplate if this really was happening. Carl and I don't even hug, and I have known him all my life. I don't know what suddenly changed, how I just managed to hook a stranger. But hey, at least this time, I didn't stand there like a complete idiot. I wrapped my hands around him too. Ross's squeeze is not too gruff, not too tight, and it's not too light. I hate people who give hugs but don't bother to put any effort into it. Hugging is supposed to be a form of acceptance, love, and appreciation. A hug should never be like a pat on the back—the equivalent to a dead-fish handshake. There is a fine line between one that is too tight and one that is barely non-existent. Of course, who likes being crushed to death?

I must've been in a dreamy mood or dreary at that. There wasn't anything on my mind. I was just distracted; I hope Ross notices how beautiful he is.

So, I said, “Nothing… I’m just… I’m happy I got to hug you.”

Of all the things I possibly could've said, why did I mention that?

When I look at it now, I was presumably bashful. Perhaps a beetroot red, followed by my heart palpitating in my chest with my vision obscured. I could hear ringing in my ears, my dick beginning to harden. If this what love is/was, then I'm not sure if I want it. It so confusing; on top of that, I have had boners popping every thirty or so seconds. I know that it's supposed to be normal when you like someone... well, a girl. But this feels weird because instead of it being a girl, it's a boy. It's confusing me something awful.

How many times does this have to go on?

At one moment, I'd like to go back to being friends; the other, I'd like to be Ross's boyfriend— no getting around that. It feels like my head is being tackled by bulldozers on either side of it. It's like they're applying pressure to each of my temples, and they are trying their hardest to cave me in.

I don't know what I'm supposed to do. I know I've wanted this ever since I saw Ross. Ross is totally awesome, but if I had him all to myself, I'm not sure what I'd do with him, to be honest.

I thought the first time I introduced Ross to my model railcar, that would be the last. Today, Ross asked if he could help me with the railcar model. I was chuffed; it's not every day someone asks to help me with it. So, I let him help me with it. I gave Ross a small part to do that was further up the track that I hadn't gotten to yet. I don't want to sound moany, but Ross can’t cut for shit. I gave him the simple chore of moulding the foam.

An easy task, right...?

Well, I thought it was. Carl can do it no problem. He just goes away to do his own thing, and you hardly get a word out of Carl when he's fiddling around, and I’m content doing my job.

Ross never shut up once.

Not that I necessarily wanted him to shut up, but God, he does talk a lot. I'm just not used to people talking when I'm doing my railcar model.

So yeah, Ross cost me money.

The piece of foam that he was working on is fucked. I didn't want to hurt his feelings or tell him that it was shit. I don't think I'd be able to forgive myself if I did that. So, I just put the part into the railcar model. I felt that if I said it was horrible or something, he'd be offended by me. That now means I have to build the rail track higher when I get to that bend. I didn't plan on making a small trestle bridge. Though now it seems like that is the only solution. I know it sounds horrible, but maybe I'll swap it out when he goes. Carl will take one look at that, and he'll say, 'what happened.' Then he'll say, ‘did you fall asleep with the scalpel in your hand?' I shouldn't be so harsh about it; he did try his best. I guess that's the least I should come to accept. Yeah, I think it should stay; I'll let him add some texture to it; perhaps some character will fix the ugliness.

Well, that was my day, short and sweet, but I guess it was okay for the most part.

Anyway, night,

Adam