dear mike m.

dear mike m.,

what the hell ass? we used to be cool, back in grade school, and then...nothing. that's what's happened with most people i know. i guess i'm just supposed to get used to it. people are around for a while, and you hang out with them enough that you consider him/her a friend, and then something happens. that person goes off to college, or else relocates, or else just doesn't talk to you anymore. then later, maybe that person adds you as a friend on some social networking site. and then you write little messages like, "hey, long time no talk! how've you been," and then that person gives some vague response, and then, that's that. no mas.

i'm glad we never became virtual friends.

you gave me shit for liking that redheaded girl, louise. i didn't know a thing about her. probably, she wasn't even that cute. i mean, i thought robin lively was cute, and then i watched teen witch again recently. what was i thinking? i forgot who you were jocking on. did we call it "jocking" back then? god, we were retarded. not our fault, though. school did that to us. yep, we can blame anything we want on our overpriced, overrated, fairly useless catholic education.

you told people once that i dominated in everything. that was a lot of pressure. people listened to you because you were funny, and you didn't even seem like you were trying to be funny. you added "ass" to every sentence, and that made it funny ass. yeah, i overheard you once, and you said that i dominated. i said, "in what?" and you said, "everything." it was the greatest thing anyone ever said about me in those nine miserable years of indoctrination.

once high school started, you stopped talking to me. understandably so. as far as i was concerned, we were in prison, and i didn't really want communication with anyone, either. i think you played sports and got decent grades. i smoked weed and tried to sleep away my existence. i don't even know who your friends were or what you did. i don't even know now what i would've wanted, how i wished things would have been. maybe i was just afraid that the whole world was going to be stupid, that i'd never be able to get away from the homophobes, the bullies, the privileged and entitled. hopefully, your fear didn't run as deep.

you came over to my house once. you opened the sliding door in our kitchen and you proclaimed, "man, this backyard is dinky!" my parents overheard you, and they were insulted. my mom still remembers it. our yard and our house wasn't as big as yours. it wasn't as big as the three other michaels' houses and yards, either. i wonder why that was so important to all of us.

we only had one class together, senior year. it was hero's journey. we still didn't talk. we went on kairos together, and we were even in the same group. at least, i think that was the case. i wrote some shit, some nostalgic shit, and you read it, but you didn't say anything. "did you read it?" i asked. you nodded, and you had nothing more to say. you, the guy who told me i dominated, that i had a small yard, the guy who added "ass" to everything, you had nothing more to say. i was embarrassed.

it's just as absurd now, writing this. i suppose i've done the opposite of growing up. i started out with real friends, and somehow - somewhere along the way - one by one, you've all become imaginary.

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