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As of right now, life consists of few things. Staying out late until the faint colors of light bleed through the dark night sky. Lying on the hoods of cars and thinking until our brains hurt. Smoking because our parents told us not to. Holding hands to feel the presence of one another.
Life is fickle.
Most people my age are thinking about what's next. Future careers and families. Plans that are later to be in effect. I don't. I began listening to slow music that tickles the ears when I was eight years old. It wasn't a matter of what was cool and what wasn't. I got an iPod for my 8th birthday. Now it's still got a black metal casing, it's had a hundred or so additional nicks and scratches on the back from my slippery preteen hands. The small glass screen has a long crack down the center. It's not perfect but it's mine. My iPod was a treasure trove of soft head music, as I liked to call it. When I entered High School I realized that others also liked my kind of songs.
I remember being in the blue and white and metal themed city bus with my headset planted firmly into my ears. Halfway through my commute I was tapped on the shoulder. It was a boy, taller than me, dressed in black from head to toe, but not in a goth or punk way. His hair also fit his image, the sides nearly erased from existence. The only evidence of hair growth on the naked patches of his mane was the faint stubble. His hair was unruly but soft looking, like my music. He motioned for my headphones to come out. I pressed pause, slinging the two black buds around my neck and turning towards him as best as I could at the odd angle of the other passengers of the bus.
"Try the acoustic version of 'Do I Wanna Know?' by the Arctic Monkeys, the Avatar Studios version." The stranger nodded, to confirm his point. My lips curved into a secretive smile aimed at the dirty floor. I untangled the buds with one hands and fished my technology out of my jacket pocket. My fingers deftly flicked to my 'Covers' playlist and scrolled down to the end. I handed the right ear bud to the stranger at the same time that I pressed play on the device. Instantly the guitar's melodic strumming started and Alex Turner's rough voice filled our ears.
Do I wanna know if this feeling flows both ways
x x x x x
Love means me waiting for him when it's cold out, it means I can be angry at him or be sad because of him but at the end of the day he'll still listen. There's not much for me to talk about- a fight between my self and my sister, a party I went to that I regretted. The love that surrounds us is not like the one usually associated with romance, it's more of a brotherly type of thing.
x x x x x
He taught me how to smoke cigarettes. I hated the smell and the taste, unless it was mixed with his warm perfume.