Sometimes the seasons make you think about things you feel bad about. I was thinking the other day. I thought about things I wish I'd said to people. Things I wish I hadn't said to people. Things I wish I'd done differently. Things could've been so much nicer. It's the steps you don't take that you don't notice until later, when it's too late. When you're too far down the trail to turn back. I wish I had kept in touch. I wish I hadn't been so distant. I wish I'd smiled more. What good is it to have those shared memories? To remember you in everything I touch? There's no point in caring about it now, I guess.
That's okay.
In middle school everyone started to split off into their groups. Everyone was so excited to finally fit under one label. All of the athletes could sit at their own table and talk about athlete things. All of the nerds sat at their own table to play Magic: The Gathering. All the counter-culture kids sat at their own table to complain about the establishment. The artists sat at their own table and looked down on everyone else. It went on. I sat at the most regular table I could. It was the catch-all table for people who fit into multiple categories. I did my best to be adaptable. Who wants a label?
Michael never fit in with the other guys. It had been like that since elementary school. We were never friends because we ran in different circles. I never made the effort, he didn't seem to mind. Michael had very feminine qualities about him. He had a dainty quality to his mannerisms and hung out exclusively with girls. He was concerned with fashion and gossip. He had a high-pitched voice.
Most importantly, he did ballet.
Being nice meant being nice to everyone, even the jerks. Nick was a jerk. A proud Redneck, Nick touted fierce Confederate pride, views, and equally vehement tendencies to insult others. I was nice to him. I think we were friends. He liked to make fun of Michael for doing ballet. I never said anything about it. Being associated with Nick meant being thought of as a jerk but it also meant he had my back.
One day we had to give an oral presentation in class about something we liked. Michael presented about ballet. Nick made fun of him the whole time. I smiled and stared out the window. In the band hall after school that day everyone was packing up their bags, trying to leave. I stood by the door, getting ready to walk out. Nick came up to me. "Hey, what do you want to do?" I did not want to hang out with him. In fact, I did not have a good time talking to him. I thought quickly for something that would get him to leave me alone without me jeopardizing our status. "Let's dance!" I said in a goofy, enthusiastic voice.
I had not noticed that Michael had walked in.
I turned and saw him standing in the doorway. He stared for a second and walked away in a huff. Nick burst out laughing and high-fived me. I forced a smile. I never talked to Michael after that. I'd never talked to him before that, actually. He ended up leaving soon after. He went to a ballet school in New York, or something. Follow your dreams, I guess.
I found him on Facebook and apologized for that day. I explained the context of the apology and everything. "I don't remember that at all." He said. I knew he wouldn't. I didn't care. It was cathartic. Useless gestures aren't always empty, I guess.
That's okay.
In middle school everyone started to split off into their groups. Everyone was so excited to finally fit under one label. All of the athletes could sit at their own table and talk about athlete things. All of the nerds sat at their own table to play Magic: The Gathering. All the counter-culture kids sat at their own table to complain about the establishment. The artists sat at their own table and looked down on everyone else. It went on. I sat at the most regular table I could. It was the catch-all table for people who fit into multiple categories. I did my best to be adaptable. Who wants a label?
Michael never fit in with the other guys. It had been like that since elementary school. We were never friends because we ran in different circles. I never made the effort, he didn't seem to mind. Michael had very feminine qualities about him. He had a dainty quality to his mannerisms and hung out exclusively with girls. He was concerned with fashion and gossip. He had a high-pitched voice.
Most importantly, he did ballet.
Being nice meant being nice to everyone, even the jerks. Nick was a jerk. A proud Redneck, Nick touted fierce Confederate pride, views, and equally vehement tendencies to insult others. I was nice to him. I think we were friends. He liked to make fun of Michael for doing ballet. I never said anything about it. Being associated with Nick meant being thought of as a jerk but it also meant he had my back.
One day we had to give an oral presentation in class about something we liked. Michael presented about ballet. Nick made fun of him the whole time. I smiled and stared out the window. In the band hall after school that day everyone was packing up their bags, trying to leave. I stood by the door, getting ready to walk out. Nick came up to me. "Hey, what do you want to do?" I did not want to hang out with him. In fact, I did not have a good time talking to him. I thought quickly for something that would get him to leave me alone without me jeopardizing our status. "Let's dance!" I said in a goofy, enthusiastic voice.
I had not noticed that Michael had walked in.
I turned and saw him standing in the doorway. He stared for a second and walked away in a huff. Nick burst out laughing and high-fived me. I forced a smile. I never talked to Michael after that. I'd never talked to him before that, actually. He ended up leaving soon after. He went to a ballet school in New York, or something. Follow your dreams, I guess.
I found him on Facebook and apologized for that day. I explained the context of the apology and everything. "I don't remember that at all." He said. I knew he wouldn't. I didn't care. It was cathartic. Useless gestures aren't always empty, I guess.
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