#realtalk

this is for him.

and i'm sorry i wrote so much about him,

but I don't take heartbreak too easy.

but who does?

this post is for the other him.

the real James.

you may know him by the name of McKay,

but he always will be James to me.

and no, i'm not in love with him,

he was just the perfect person,

inspiration and support in a time of welcome desperation.

 and this blog was about another boy.

and he might not be here to see this,

but trust me when i say the intent is the same.

i love you James McKay Chidester.

thanks for the boost of courage.

this is for her.

her ivory keys tickle the annoyance of melodies in my mind,

and her selfishness drives me to the point of insanity.

believe me when i say i will not miss you.

i thought we were supposed to stop playing pretend when we learned that 3x3=9,

but the square root of 9 is 3, and that's probably the only logic you understand.

this is for Mr. Stanley.

the funniest, most bad assed, courageous mo-fo i've ever met.

i'm glad we made that arrangement at the beginning of the year.

thanks for being my best friend.

this is for Madeline. and Abby.

and all of the other girls i fooled throughout the semester.

sorry i'm not who you wanted me to be.

this is for Nelson.

for giving me a taste of Paris when all I knew was French.

for opening my eyes to beyond Robert Frost.

for amazing mixtapes.

for tears.

for copious amounts of laughter.

for the inspiration.

for everything.

thank you.

and i know i'm not the first, or the only one to say it,

but i mean it.

thank you.

but this is for me.

all black clothes,

purple hair,

11 piercings,

bad language, and a broken heart.

a broken soul,

but a creative mind and no outlet.

a vulnerable girl with a lot of love to give,

but surrounded by the wrong people.

freckles,

and prescription glasses that are only worn on the days when she feels like they'll match.

so pale the albinos are envious,

and she is on her knees begging for this torment we call high school to be over.

begging to be out of this place where she stands out like a sore thumb because she wants to be herself.

50-hours-a week kind of girl.

in-love-with-a-boy-who-will-never-understand kind of girl.

he-broke-her-heart-but-she-still-falls-for-him-everyday kind of girl

looks-for-love-in-all-of-the-wrong-places kind of girl

naive kind of girl.

people-say-she's-too-mature-to-be-17 kind of girl.

still-not-old-enough kind of girl.

my kind of girl.

 that kind of girl.

thanks for reading.

love, James C. McKay