Dear Diary I -FULL-

Dear Diary,

5/30
I hate writing things and you know it, but Mrs. O'Malley said I had to. However, I am not doing this just for her; I'm doing it for you, you stupid journal. I've had you in my desk drawer for a year now and I think it'd be fit that you get some crap written down for ya.
'Kay, so I have to write what happened today, right? Yeah. Um, let's see. Some new guy my age moved in next door and he's super cute. He dresses like a prep, but his hair looks emo. Weird combo, right? I know! I don't know his name yet, but this is, like, the beginning of summer vacation so maybe I can get to be his buddy before the Barbies eat him! Or the Emo kids. Don't get me wrong, I dress like the Emo kids myself, but some of them actually DO cut themselves and have really bratty attitudes and might convert his social status to EMO-CORNER before the Barbies even get a hold of him.
You know what? I saw the guy's parents just pull out of the driveway. I think Imma go knock on his door. I SHALL GET TO KNOW HIM BEFORE SCHOOL VACAY' IS OVER! I WILL MAKE HIM MY BEST FREAKING FRIEND EVER. Because… I really need a guy friend… Ughhhh… I think I'll go sulk now- NO, I MUST KNOCK ON HIS DOOR FIRST! THEN I'LL SULK. Later, Dia!

I put the pen down. MUST GO MEET PREP-BOY. OCK! I shoved my chair into the desk and went to my closet to hunt down my sneakers. WHOOSH! Not it. FWOOP! Not. It. SWISH! There they are. My converse were sitting back in the far corner. Hey, wouldn't that make my shoes all EMO-CORNER? I didn't do anything to them to piss them off. Okay, yeah. I did wear them to that school-fieldtrip thing to the daycare center to help out around the building. What'd I do to them? Oh yeah, I helped lay down cement and I MAY HAVE gotten some on my shoes. Awh, poor shoes. I'll throw them in the wash later.
What am I supposed to be doing? Oh yeah! Meet Prep-Boy next door. I stood up and reached for my ugly-orange cell phone and shoved it in my paint-splattered jacket's right pocket. I zipped up my jacket a lil' bit and started for the door.
As I passed my vanity, I caught glimpse of myself in the mirror. *ugly screamy voice* MY HAIR LOOKS LIKE- Oh yeah, I promised myself to limit my swearing (I find foul language just flat-out unreasonable nowadays). See, my mother hated swear words and I know that up in Heaven she still frowns upon me every time I say a wordy-dirty. Therefore, to honor her memory, I am going to try to say other more reasonable alternatives instead. Oh well, I can call my hair 'crap' instead.
I yanked open my drawer and pulled out my brush and quickly ran it through my blonde-and-red curls, stringing out the annoying, unattractive knots. My hair is separated into huge curls, not like a ginger's curls. But the kind of curls you see actresses with. I hate it and wish my flatiron would work through it… but it does not. So I make do with what I got.
"There." I exhaled to myself aloud. Yeah, I talk to myself a lot. That's not weird, is it? Nah, thought not. I'm sure you do it too. Do not tell me you have never danced in an elevator when no-one's watching! I do that all the time.
I put my brush back, opened my door, and flew down the carpeted stairs, "HEY DADDY, I'M GOING TO MEET THAT CUTE DUDE NEXT DOOR!" I called before slamming the front door.
Daddy stuck his head outside the window, "Hey! Be back before nine o'clock. No, make that eight-thirty! Okay, sweetie?!"
I nodded as I ran down my sidewalk and quickly grabbed my skateboard. Ugh, seriously man? Eight-freaking-thirty? Eugh. CLACK! I flipped it over with my foot and aimed it toward my driveway. I skated down the pavement and onto the road.
Ten seconds flat, I was at Prep-Boy's driveway. Oh yeahhhh! Prep-Boy shall be my new guy besty…
I slowly rolled my board down the driveway and stopped when I got to the garage. Should I knock on the garage screen-door or should I head to the front door? Nah, the screen-door's a little too casual friend-who-walks-right-in-and-raids-your-fridge-and-doesn't-care. I skated down the sidewalk and rung the doorbell like the idiot I am.
Prep-Boy answered the door, "You're the chick next door. Cool hair." He gave me a thumps-up. Good boy, he noticed me. He had black hair, a grey short-sleeved Hollister shirt, and skinny jeans… from Ameri-freakan Eagle. This is why I consider him a prep. What does he wear that is not Big Time Prep Name brand? He had pale skin and big ebony eyes. He was smiling, but his eyes weren't.
I stepped on the edge of my board and caught it swinging up into my hand, "Welcome to the neighborhood. We're the only teenagers here. The rest of this land is filled with more raisins than grapes. A lot of wine too." I narrowed my eyes and smirked, glad to use that metaphor I thought up last week. Hadn't had the opportunity to use it 'til now.
He raised an eyebrow, "Well, at least it means that it's less likely a punk will jack the stereo out of your car." He shrugged and unsuccessfully tried to lighten the darkness in his eyes with a grin. Jeez, this guy acts like he has to take more crap than the porcelain throne itself. He looked away, "You uhh, wanna come in?" he took a step back, allowing me entry.
I smiled and took a step in. His house seemed like every other John Doe's. Beige carpet, cream walls, fancy hanging flowery arrangements, weird paintings done by artists no-one knows and/or gives a crap about, big shiny chandelier, etc... It was just… normal. "Thanks." I said as he gently shut the door.
"My name's Drystan. Nice to meet'chya." He held out his hand for me to shake. Wow, odd name. Never met a guy with a name that began 'D-r-y'.
"Name's Ceren. Grand making your acquaintance as well. The Barbies will eat you." I smiled.
He gave me a confused look, "Eh what?" he shoved his hands in his pockets. He looked like a pitiful little lost puppy…
I laughed, "If you look as though their national symbolizing clothing-eagle threw up on you, then they will take you into their cult and make you their new Ken." It was true. Jason Carleyes just was not cutting it lately. Well actually, he was cutting it, his hair that is. He's just not cute anymore. His hair was his whole image. Once you've lost your image, you are no longer accepted into the Barbies.
Drystan gave an intense frown, "I don't want the Barbies to eat me. Moreover, they probably can't. I'm not made of dry ranch-less salad. I'm made of CARBS." He laughed. Uohh, that's a pretty good one. Go him.
I laughed with him, and then gave an accusing face, "You don't seem like a Barbie. What are you going to do once school's in? Wait, what school WILL you go to anyway?" These are 'Must Know' questions. He had better say East Riverbrooke High.
He grinned, still his eyes did not; Jeez, I don't think his eyes can, "East Riverbrooke High." YESH. OHYEAH. Yay yayayayayayayayay. HE WILL BE MY BEST GUY FRIEND. MY ASSISTANT MONKEY. "And I'm not a Prep or a Barbie." He shrugged, "I'm just 'Me'. No labels or anything. Like, you're just 'You'. You don't seem like an Emo Kid, Barbie, Prep, anything. Sure some kids, stuck-up, or cut themselves, or just have a certain sense of style seem to blend with one another, and giving them group names does help distinguish their area in the social-status scale, but that's just what they are: Group names. Not identities. We treat these labels like identities. That's like," he looked away, "a middle school thing. We're older now. We shouldn't have to mentally tattoo 'Prep' across someone's forehead to guess where he or she fit in the world. We shouldn't even try to guess where someone fits in the world." He narrowed his eyes, "Especially just based on the way somebody dresses." Holy crap. Well now I just feel bad.
I looked down, "I'm really sorry. I know you're right. And I'm not trying to judge anyone. But I don't have to realize that in order to know that since you're so good-looking and wear what you do, that the Barbies will hog you. I feel bad." I looked back up at his thankfully understanding face.
I have never met anyone like Drystan. He looks at life in a completely different way… So unique… like his name. I always thought your name defines your nature in a way. A different name, a different personality, a different nature. Drystan is… a breath of fresh air. He's nothing like I thought he'd be. Maybe this is a punishment of some sort, a positive one. Like 'You thought he'd be a cute, easy self-important piece of crap; but instead, you got a 'peace' of an angel….'
Drystan cocked his head, "You think I'm good-looking?" Of course, of all that I just said, he has to hold on to that part.
I grinned, "Yes. Yes I do." I can't believe I just affirmed what he said. "You're a lovely aberration. That's what you are." I really need to shut up. An aberration is something marked different from the norm. I wonder if he knows what the heck I just said.
He crossed his arms, "I don't think I'm the only one who simply sees things the way I do. So I don't know if I'd call myself an aberration. But I like the way you told me that." Wow, I think his eyes just smiled a little bit, "Y'know, you have beautiful eyes. They shine differently than others do. Your eyes have something else in them that you really don't see much in people anymore." His eyes lost life again. God allowed me to meet this dude for reasons unknown. I feel so lucky to have met a guy like this. Seriously, all the good guys left in the world are either taken, gay, or fictional characters.
I went red, "Why thank you." I gave him a thumbs-up, "God bless!"  I wanna know why his eyes are so dark and gloomy. I wonder what color his eyes really are. "Hold on a second. There's something weird about your eyes. Lemme see." I took the few steps forward as he shrugged. He had such a sad face. I wonder if he's depressed or something. I examined his features. Wow, from afar his eyes seem black, but they're actually… wait… what even is THAT color? I had to lean in closer to even begin to discern another variation other than flat-out ebony, when he surprised me with a kiss. I didn't have the urge to discuss what the heck he just did, I will in a second. But I can delay my pure shock and utter confusion long enough to completely figure out the actual color.
He raised an eyebrow, "If a kiss didn't affect you, then you must be really determined to figure out the color of my freakin' eyes. Oh wow." Without moving his head, he dug his hands in his pocket to reveal a small mini flashlight. "Here. Use this." He held up the small flashlight and I took it, "I feel like I'm at the eye doctor." He said as I shined the object in his eyes.
Oh my, "That is the DARKEST blue I have ever seen in my entire life. The outer color is only one shade difference from the pupils. Which must be why no one deems you a freak." Hmm, I feel I've forgotten something. Oh well.
"Are you not even going to mention my kissing you? Or was that just a really vivid and realistic daydream I just had in my head?" He firmly asked. Oh yeahhhh… HOLY SNAP THAT WAS REAL? Why he actually did that, I don't know. I'm looking for a guy friend, not a BOYFRIEND. Soooo….? What am I supposed to do? I mean, I just met him like twenty minutes ago… Do I really want to jump into this? He nodded after a minute of silence, "Okay, I get it. We can be friends first." He said acceptingly.
Oh thank God. I smiled and patted his head, "Very good. Can you ride a skateboard?" Let's see how much we have in common.
He grinned, "Yes, yes I can. Follow me." He brought me out into his super messy garage. Crap here. Crap there. Real crap here. Real crap there. I suppose they have a cat or a dog or something.
What was that tingly weird feeling I felt when he kissed me? It was new. I've kissed like three other guys before but this was different. It was strange. It was odd. It was… welcoming. But I simply can't let it happen again, I'm not looking for a boyfriend right now.
Drystan came to a door at the back of the garage; there was a regal fancy carpet before a huge stair that led up to it. "Ladies first." He opened the door which had a huge flight of stairs on the other side. We began our trek down what appeared to be the never-ending steps. It took about five minutes to arrive at the bottom.
When we reached the end, I was freaking astonished. The sight before me was amazing. It looked like an indoor skate park. "Like what you see?" he asked. I nodded. This must be what a skater's Heaven looks like. Thank you, God.