I’ve had our conversation on replay in my head ever since Friday night.
About your past. What you used to be. Overcoming all of it.
I learned quite a bit about you, about who you used to be. You let me in on so much. And it makes me happy.
I’m happy that you trusted me enough to tell me all you did that night.
But at the same time, I’m hurt by it. I thought about all of it, and I’m actually quite upset at myself, for not being able to do the same thing. To not return the favor, and letting you in on a few things. Showing you that I trusted you just as much.
There’s so much I could have possibly told you that night. So much I could have let you in on. But just like me, I couldn’t fester up the nerve to tell you anything.
It seemed so easy for you to tell me all you did. Like it didn’t even matter to you that you were telling me any of it. Like you had told the story a thousand times before you told me and you wanted me to know. It made me like you so much more, yet it made me jealous of you. I wished I could do the same thing with the same ease, like it was nothing at all.
Maybe soon I’ll fester up the nerve to tell more about me.
Here is “Nothing Can Change That” from The Secret Handshake. The song recently appeared on the Atticus IV Compilation and is also going to be on his new album, My Name Up in Lights, which is out April 21st.
I’m anticipating this album. April 21st, gotta get it! ^_^
In 2007 during my junior year in high school, I went on a 2-day, 1-night camping trip with a bunch of my friends somewhere about an hour past Huntsville, at this ranch called El Caporal. It was for the Boys and Girls Club, and we were kinda like the supervisors, since we were the oldest (not counting the 4 parents that went along with us). I thought it would be a fun thing to experience, and although I knew I had to work the next day, I hated my job, so I said “whatever” and jumped on the bandwagon and went on with them.
The ride up to the ranch was grueling. I was in a bus with these extremely annoying kids, most either in the 7th or 8th grade, that were purposely being pests, and I wanted to strangle all three of them, but I did my best to block them out, and just listen to my iPod to the whole way up there. Plus, there was this lesbian chick on the bus, about 19, that I just so happened to not like very much (feelings were mutual) that was harshing my mellow just as much as the pesky kids were. I had already had a feeling this was going to suck.
For most of the trip, my assumption was right. I was trying to have a good time, but each time was being ruined by the Brat Pack and the Cunt (excuse my French). I would try and have nice time with the friends that were there, and they would come along with their unnecessary existences. Just seeing their faces was enough to piss me off.
We did a lot of cool stuff; road on these J(au)n Deere carts, (boring) hay-ride, my friends all went swimming in this beach-like lake while I chillaxed and took a nap on this lawn chair, road the carts some more through through this huge forest, went to this amazing secret spot in the forest, ate a bunch of smores, had an awesome Bar-B-Q, played some pool, and a little more stuff. But I just wasn’t having as good of a time as I was saying I was. I was secluding myself from the bunch, even friends. I wasn’t talking to anybody all that much, I was acting like I didn’t want to be there. I just wasn’t all that happy there.
And I didn’t understand myself. It was such an amazing place. It was gorgeous scenery, and so much you could actually do on a camping trip, but I was just being a dick and spoiling things, for myself and probably others.
When my friends were out swimming, I was lounging back, acting like a freakin’ Emo kid, all unhappy and such. Wearing a hoodie (on my head) and my over-sized sunglasses (That broke two days later at school), not letting people see me. I was standing around, watching them have such an awesome time, wishing I would snap out of my PMS-mode (and I wasn’t on my menstrual) and just go out and have fun with them. But, of course, instead, I drowned myself in my own (at the time) hateful self, and acted all tough, when really I wanted to cry.
Then my friend, Timmy, came up to me.
"Hey, TaVon, are you okay?"
"Yeah, I’m cool…" The tone of my voice showed that I was a terrible liar.
"Yeah, I’m good… Just tired."
"Why don’t you come out there and swim with us?"
"Didn’t bring my bikini…"
"Well, we don’t want you feeling all left out."
"It’s cool. Don’t let me spoil y’alls fun."
"Well, I felt like I had to come check up on you. You seemed upset."
"What gave you that idea?"
(I was acting like such a DICK.)
"I’m not sure. It’s hard to read you most of the time. you just come off as sorta cold sometimes, ya’ know?”
That definitely struck a cord. Nobody had ever said that to me before. People always told me I was hard to read, but never had they said I seemed cold. It actually hurt. I wasn’t mad at him at all, only at myself.
Was I really coming off like that to people?
That stuck in my mind for the rest of the day. It was like what he said kept repeating over and over in my head. Right until the next day.
I had woke up (a lot) earlier than everybody else, about 8 in the morning, along with sunrise. I had went outside, and saw all of my friends plus some other cool peeps I had met on the trip with them sitting on the dock of this huge pond together. I was glad to see them, and they were glad to see me, so I went over and joined them.
We all just sat there, no bratty little kids bugging us, no annoying lesbian chick on my jock, no parents, just us; me and my friends, sitting on this dock on this enormous lake in front of the cabin we all slept in, (sort of) in the middle of no where. The site was beautiful, really.
We all had this huge conversation together, about the trip, school, our jobs, life, little random stuff like that. It was interesting, because none of us, although we’re all close friends to one another, didn’t converse much outside of school other than at the Boys and Girl Club (when we even went at the same time) and when we run into each other at random places. I liked it. We all even learned a few new things about each other that morning. Some of us actually shed a tear or two because of the moment. We were acting like real friends, having a real moment. We didn’t want it to end, it felt too good to end.
I apologized to my them about me being a party pooper, and they accepted it gladly. They were just glad I was happy and smiling again. As I was I, for myself and them. We all made a pinky swear promise that “Whatever happened at El Caporal, whatever we talked about at this dock, it stays solely between all of us.”
And it’s been that way ever since. We didn’t do anything extremely wild enough to keep a secret, but the moment at the dock to us was just so sacred, we to this day haven’t talk to anybody but each other about it. We even got these shirts from the guys that owned the ranch (really cool peeps by the way) that said “What Happens At El Caporal, Stays At El Caporal.” Ironic, but we’ve kept true to that word. HAHA!
I think I still have that shirt now that I mentioned it. If I find I’ll show it to you guys, promise. Sorry this story was so long and there was such little detail about our conversation. Love you guy(e)s anyway(z) .
Well, I’ve said enough for me to get off this thing for a few hours. I apologize for being touchy and tear-jerky, and EMOtional tonight. I’m just in that mood. I dunno why, so please don’t ask…