“I’m a fraud,” I say to no one in particular as I lay in the dark. Albert, the man who has the room adjacent to mine, must think me a bit queer because I’m always talking to myself/dancing/pacing/singing/reenacting WWII.

“I’m not doing this to make a difference -- I don’t do it because I’m noble or because I’m some great guy. I’m doing it because…” I give up. I don’t want to talk about why I voluntarily subject myself to the mental anguish that comes from talking to children who've had taken from them what no person has the right to take: innocence.
It's... nerve-breaking, and even though I just started meeting with victims, I'm not sure how much of it I can take. Every time I see that hospital I question if I'm strong enough to do what I signed up to do.

What makes it worse is that the only person I can talk to about it is Jon... And the giant purple heart-plushie that rides shotgun in my car. (Seriously. I roll around with a big purple heart sitting beside me 24-7.)

The thing about having only Frienamies: you don’t trust anyone enough to open up. Even the people you love more than yourself aren’t close enough for you to make yourself completely vulnerable to ‘em.

I did not step out of my room this evening until I wanted some din-din. (A turkey sammich -- Swiss Cheese, some wheat bolilo bread ,and some turkey I purposefully burnt on a skillet to give it a crunch.) Within a few minutes, Ben, Albert, and Jon found ourselves in front of the TV watching my future wife (Laurie Ann Gibson from MTB) when Aaron emerges from his room.
“Hey, family,” he says to us with a giant grin. Ben, who is sitting on the couch next to me, and Albert, who is lounging on a love seat, both grin and offer a greeting in return.

I stood up, opened the screen door, and walked outside onto our patio.


The thing about having Frienamies… the thing about voluntarily putting up walls to shield yourself from genuinely good people.. . is that it’s a struggle. My problems with intimacy go way past romance, and I think I know why.. The only person I can open up to is the person I trust the least:


Me.

Comment! (17) | Recommend!

I've had nine different roommates since I started college.

Maybe it's me?


John - My favorite one. Kindred spirit to me.
Adrian - We ate together and played a lot of Mario Soccer.. 'cause real Soccer isn't a sport. It's a theatrical performance.
Chern - Moved back to Malaysia after a semester. All I remember about him was that he had a girlfriend in Japan and another in Malaysia.
Matthew - Number 2 favorite, despite the fact he annoyed the hell out of me by always cheering AGAINST my Mavericks.. AND Cowboys. He left to go pursue a lovechild with LeBron James.. or go to Medical School, one of the two.
Alex - Ate my baked doritos. Dead to me.
Albert - We've got a pretty good relationship because we barely speak to one another.
Aaron - He brought a HD TV when he moved in last week. I like him.
Benjamin - He just moved in yesterday. We were acquaintances ( maybe friends? Never mind, I have no friends.

Just frienemies.

Comment! (4) | Recommend!

"I really want to become a sports agent. Not for the money, or the glamor, or anything like that.. I just really want to be able to help kids," Raymond, my former arch nemesis, tells me from across a table in private study room. Although I once considered Ray my mortal enemy, spending six or so hours with him that evening has changed my opinion of the man.

After an introduction that ended with me yelling at my class that Tony Parker's accomplishments are nullified because he's from France, I figured Ray and I wouldn't be friends. Raymond, a native of San Antonio, is a Spurs Fan. I'm a Mav's fan. My 2nd Wiimote's name is Nowitzki( the first is Ophelia, after the catalyst to Hamlet's destruction.)


Anyway, that day was a pretty good day. I spent the morning completing my training to begin counseling victims of rape at the local children's hospital, and the afternoon having lunch with my friend Jason. I spent the evening talking to Raymond about everything from the six years he spent in the Army to the 20 years my Mavericks spent in obscurity prior to the arrival of Marc Cuban, to how T.O. celebrations rival that of This Man:

Comment! (4) | Recommend!

"This day has definitely made my summer," she says to me as I avert my gaze from her own. Although I've known the woman since she was a girl and myself a boy(more on that later), we've only spent two days together, just the two of us, in our eight year relationship.

"You should've spent more days with me then," I tell her as I allow my visage to settle upon hers once more. It's her turn to look away this time, so she tilts her head down far enough for our brown eyes to disconnect and focus on more colorful things in venue: her pair on the bowl of frozen yogurt in front of her, and mine on the children running around screaming.

I had to cut our rendezvous short after that because I had a much more important date that I had to get home for: I had to take my little sister out to eat. Although I enjoyed spending every second with the woman( and made plans to see her Tomorrow), the moments I spend with my kid sister are ones I'll forever cherish.

Comment! (8) | Recommend!