DRAFT: This module has unpublished changes.

4/17/17

Harry

The boy that used to sit across from me in English, all the way across the room, is someone who I remember because of his hair.  It was black and curly, but in my memory it is black and curly and unruly, like how my sister’s used to be when we were kids.  The male adult thing that I associate him with is his back- the kind that you can see when a guy wears a white t-shirt, the wife beater kind.  I am attracted to this type of this part of the body of guys.  I associate him with red eyes, which is something I am also very attracted to, with guys, for some reason I can’t figure out- but the attraction is there.  I haven’t seen this boy in years, but I see people that remind me of him every once and a while- the other night I was sitting in my apartment building’s lobby, doing God knows what, in much possible harm’s way, and this guy buzzed into the lobby.  I looked him in the eyes before he got through the door, and I was kind of scared of him for a minute, because of his demeanor- it seemed kind of dangerous, but he had a serious look in his eyes, so I jumped up, in front of whatever audience may pertain to the two video surveillance cameras that were in the lobby, and walked to the elevator.  I pushed the elevator button, and waited, and I got on the elevator, and then the guy that reminded me of the kid from my high school got on with me.  He wouldn’t look me in the eyes, but I looked at him.  It looked like he was worried/thinking hard about something.  When I got off of the elevator and got in my apartment, I realized that this guy reminded me of the kid from my past.  He was my hero from all that could have gone down in the lobby- nothing, but it is possible that some crazy person would be able to do something crazy like break in.  Maybe I just need someone to think of as my hero.  When I was younger my Mom used to call my Dad her hero, and he would just react, mildly, and that would be it.  Now I realize being someone’s hero doesn’t necessarily have to be icky.  It can be for real.  People need people.  People need people from the past.  People need people to know that they will always be there for each other. 

When I was a freshman, I think I have already written about this, Harry, the hero in the back of my mind, got heavily dissed when a girl read a poem about the situation revolving around a breakup involving him and another girl.  I ruffled his hair on the way out of the classroom the day it was read.  I don’t remember anyone else doing it.  I wish I could go back in time and fix it- his embarrassment.  But I can’t.  Harry reminds me of my Dad.  My Dad is kind of crazy and always listens, and he can dance.  Harry can dance.  I don’t know if he really can but in my perception of whatever is left of him in my mind, he can dance.  He can dance like the police officer in Superbad.  I wish I could be like that- be able to just kick back, even in the middle of a hectic night of work, and move, in the living room of some high school kid.  I wish I could have that adorable crazy look in his eye (I imagine Harry had the same crazy look in his eyes as Bill Hader) looking at me 24-7, making me smile and laugh, making it all worthwhile.   I wish I could be as funny as him.  I wish that the movie was real life, so that I could step through the screen of my laptop into some crazy world where the unreal is real, and Harry is actually Bill Hader, so that I could hang out with him during some stupid high school party, even if Harry was a cop, even though that scene is about fourteen years behind me.  That’s all I need- a guy that is crazy but kind-eyed at the same time.  At least that’s how I see his eyes- in my mind- kind.  And crazy.  I wish I could go back in time to high school and tell him to hang in there because I know he’ll be a good guy in the future. 

He is one of many people that I wish I could go back in time, during the time of high school, to talk to.  I used to think he was just another guy, like other guys, but now, in such isolation that exists in my current social condition, and with the intuition that tells me that I used to be stupid, naïve, and cruel, I think I was wrong.  What do you think?   Of me?  Of Harry?  Of yourself?  

DRAFT: This module has unpublished changes.