Frictional Faith

Sunday, September 30, 2012

Kyle II posted at 1:47 AM

Everyone went through an emo-hardcore playlist phase, some longer than others. Mine was pretty short lived.

I was influenced to listen to such music when I was 14 thanks to one of the first few friends I made in high school. Her name was Sheila. She accepted me when everyone else thought I was an oddball. The first song she shared with me that I truly enjoyed was The Used's 'I'm A Fake'. I never really understood the lyrics, though. Someone told me that Bert was singing about his penis. I just felt that the singer sounded like he was in pain and it was relatable, somehow.

Once I started to get the hang of such music, I listened to more similar sounding bands and it progressed to heavier genres. After a while I got desensitized. I was wondering why none of these bands had committed suicide when they were advocating bleak values about life onto their fans. Hypocrites to be honest. They were just like popstars - out to get our money and support doing what they enjoyed most. The fans, we would eat it all up.

I got closer to Ridley because I did what Sheila did to me, to him. I shared with him depressive music because I thought he was depressed as well. He obviously enjoyed it because till this very day he still indulges in such music.

Where should I begin with Ridley? He was different. Special. He did not talk much to begin with. Each time we had a conversation I had to be the one driving it. He was not exactly the kind of guy I would want to be with - he could not make decisions. He was passive, for the lack of a better word.

He was very intelligent though. He was a "genius with a headache".

I only got closer to him in the last year of high school because he was one of the few friends I wanted to still be in touch with. It turned out that I started relying on his very existence to make me happy.

Recently he had been on my mind a lot more than usual. From the very moments of my waking till the last thing I see before slumber. It was not normal, was it? I could not really help it.

He was my best friend after all. He would be mad pissed if he knew. Ridley had icy cold hands sometimes and he had this endearing smell about him. It was not his cologne (not synonymous with him AT ALL), it was just his own odor. He had veins subtly showing on his hands and I really liked that.

Was I infatuated?

Ridley was going to take me out the next week. Obviously I would be the one coming out with a plan.

Labels: Friction, shorts