you told me, casually, that you smoked in the middle of a conversation about something completely unrelated and i remember how i concealed my shock
the idea that i, teacher's pet and involuntary straightedge now had a friend that smoked was beyond my comprehension
most things you do are beyond my comprehension, but i accept that now.
but the thing is that this is still high school, and it always will be and i don't think you hate this town as much as you say that you do
you are everything you ever wanted to be and yet, you still find yourself yearning for something in the glow of the downtown streetlights
you have boots stained with paint from a theatre production and constantly talk about how you need to get new ones
but you never do and i wonder if it's stubbornness or pride or the fact you still are, somehow, only seventeen with all of the complications that brings
or the fact that behind the sepia-stained glasses you are the kind of person who still does theatre productions and takes honors classes
and you know so much about which venues are cool and which bands to see and about that one guy from the casualties who raped a girl last year and about how to dance like you're not coming home to your parents in the morning.
but the one thing i remember was about how when you were fifteen some guy tried to follow you home from riot fest
he almost got on your train, you said, with a somehow sparkling laugh and a raise of your right eyebrow
and i still have this picture in my head of you and leather jacket your paint stained boots with a cigarette butt crushed beneath them
and a thickly dramatic streak of teary eyeliner carving what must have seemed like permanent marks into your face
i like to think up futures for people, what will happen them after all of this stops being put world and you are no exception.
in some you go to a state college, major in business and when it's time to throw bricks through a starbucks window you leave me all alone (but you never stop knowing which song that was from)
and in some you become this transient crust punk, romantically indigent in a way that suits you quite well
either way, you forget about me and the little things i said to you and the little conversations we had and you look back on them and laugh at how naïve you were back then.
and wherever we end up, we'll both reminisce on who we were and the things we did and the truth is, i think that i will miss you.
A/N: Inspired by Shape Shift With Me (which is just a criminally underrated album, by the way) and a new friend.