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The Cold Summer Rain (1 Viewer)


This was a memoir i wrote awhile ago…God i hope the girl this was written about doesn’t see this.

The Cold Summer Rain

I was lying on my bed, with my face down engulfed by the cool threads of my pillow. Unlike every high school senior who was celebrating the end of school, I was in a pit of despair, and the atmosphere only reminded me of it. It was another rainy day in June, the moon hidden behind the everlasting clouds. For me, rain has been the signal of terrible times, and streaming tears. As I laid there, my mind by it’s own will thinks back to all the things that have conspired in the past few days. It’s strange to think that only a week earlier I was the happiest kid the world, sharing a couch with the most beautiful girl in the world. Her name was Nicole, and she has been the girl of my dreams for over five lonely years.

* * * * * * * *

In middle school, I had never been a popular kid, always kept quiet and minded my own business. I was one of the kids who would always get picked on for no reason, for mindless jackasses to get their cheap laughs. Whether it was being punched in the sides, or choked by my sweatshirt, every day was a battle and I would never fire a shot. This particular day, I was sitting in math class, minding my own like always, while all the other students were moving around signing each others yearbooks. I didn’t have too many friends, particularly in this class, so I was just sitting by myself.

“Would you like to sign my yearbook?” I hear a voice question from behind. I look back and see this young lady, Nicole, holding her yearbook out. I look around to make sure she was actually talking to me. She must have noticed because she gave a little smile, and stretched the book out further towards me.

“Yeah, sure,” squeaks out of my throat, I’m not even sure if she heard it. With this girl’s yearbook in hand, my pulse pounded, and I had no idea what to write, so I wrote the most generic thing anyone could. “Have a Great Summer, Jeff Kendall.” Why would I write something so bland? Would she like it? Why did she want me to sign her yearbook? Why was she being nice to me? A million questions flooded my mind and I couldn’t even respond when she said “Thank you.” She was the most kind girl I’ve met, and I began to notice her. She had the most lovely blue eyes that told me the truth, and could steal my soul. Her hair was gentle, and kind just like her. When I looked at her I felt the most exhilarating feeling in the world, she was the most beautiful girl that my eyes have ever seen. It was in that moment I realized I wanted nothing more than to be with her.

As time went on, my secret affection for this girl would grow in the lonely shadows. One day I met a boy, who changed my life, his name was Chris. He influenced me in ways that made me who I am today, we were similar, and grew to be best friends. It turned out we were more similar than we knew, he too liked Nicole. Not knowing that I also did, he pursued his wants, and I backed off into those lonely shadows that were mentioned. Eventually, he and Nicole were together, only to break up a couple months later. I was there for him, but at the same time, I was there for her. With my confidence growing I began to talk to Nicole, every day that passed I grew closer to her. I spoke to Chris about really liking Nicole, and wanting to be with her, he told me I should go for it, so I did.

In the weeks that followed Nicole and I decided to try things out, and see if a relationship might work. Those were the happiest weeks in my life. Little did I know my world would come crashing down soon after. As it turns out, though she did have feelings for me, she still had stronger feelings for my friend Chris, and he felt the same for her. He walked me down to a playground at East School, and told me this. He wanted my approval. He wanted me to give up my dreams, my world, because that’s what she was to me.

“I didn’t want things to end up this way, and it sucks, but it’s how it is,” he tries to explain to me. My anger that I had has turned to complete sadness as it almost seems like I’m watching this whole scene unfold from outside my body. I can’t move, I can barely think.

“I feel uncomfortable telling you not to date her, but I know if you do choose to date her, it would completely destroy and ruin our friendship,” I finally say when my speech returns to me. “You’re my best friend, and she’s the girl of my dreams.” He turned and left, walking away to talk to Nicole, leaving me alone in the dark. It began to rain, and I sat there letting the cool water run over my numb body. He decided to date her.

* * * * * * * *

Now it is a few days later, and I’m still feeling the aftershocks of this terrible disaster. I get a text, telling me of a party that my friend Matt is throwing. He’s been my closest friend for the last 10 years, and lives right down the street. I don’t drink, but I know I could use the company of friends. I walk down the street in the rain that brings back such painful memories, and stings like acid. I fill my pockets with my dad’s beer to contribute something to my friend’s party. I feel guilty about sneaking them away, but my head is clouded, and I don’t care about life anymore. I show up, all my friends are there, having a great time, so is Chris and Nicole. I’m not sure what to do, my body is fueled with sadness and rage at the very sight of them. I walk to the bar in the basement.

“Are you gonna drink?” my friend asks. In rebuttal I grab some Southern Comfort, and start drinking it at an obscene rate. I don’t drink, what am I doing? In a few minutes my face is numb, and so is the pain that has plagued my heart. I join in on the fun, playing beer pong, and drinking non stop. Naturally my mind believes the more of something that makes me feel good, the better. This was a hard lesson to learn.
Soon, an uncontrollable sadness comes over me, and I begin to weep. I’m crying in the corner of the room, a nice girl, and my close friend there for me, trying to comfort me.

“I’m not good enough for her, I’m not good enough for anybody, I’m a piece of shit,” I begin saying, with now multiple people trying to calm me down.

“Give yourself more credit than that, you’re a great kid, Jeff. You don’t deserve this,” I hear somebody tell me. My brother comes over, I don’t see him, but I hear him.
“Jeff, I love you, I know you don’t think I do, but I do. And if that girl doesn’t want to be with you, than that’s her fault, you hear me? You’re better than her, you’re better than this, she’s the one making the mistake, you don’t need her. I’m always going to be here for you, everything is going to be fine.” He tells me. I nod my head to everything, wishing it was true.

This is where I spend the next two hours, sitting on the floor next to some plant, crying my eyes out. I don’t know quite what to do, I notice Chris standing a few feet away, kind of keeping an eye on me. I resent him for that. My sadness turns into anger. I get up, and start storming around my friends basement in a drunken rage. I punch the wall a few times, not feeling the damage it would do to my hand until the day later. Everyone is avoiding me, knowing not to cross me at this point. I see Chris.

“Why don’t you go upstairs to see Nicole?” I ask him bitterly. He doesn’t respond, just stands there a few yards away, and looks at me with a blank stare. “Get the fuck upstairs” I now tell him, yelling as loud as I can. I don’t know where he goes, but it’s out of my sight, but that doesn’t soothe my anger. I continue pacing around furiously, with fists clenched and my body bowed out, ready to fight. I see the bottle of vodka sitting on the counter, almost empty. I grab it and down the rest of it. I start going to the fridge looking for more alcohol to pacify me, but before I get there I’m grabbed from behind in a bear hug, I retaliate and shake loose. I need to cool off, I need to get my head on. I walk up the stairs into the garage, and finally get outside. The cool rain hitting beating against my numb body. I need a walk, it’ll help. I start my ascend up the hill, my friend Matt following.

“Jeff, go back inside, we’ll talk, please just go back inside,” he pleads with me. I’m in no state to be succumbed by reasoning. I need to get away, not just from him, but from life, from everything. I begin to jog, and then sprint.

“Gotta get better, gotta work out, gotta get in shape, gotta get better, gotta do it for her, gotta run, gotta get better,” I begin mumbling to myself as I run up this hill with my friend trying to stop me. He grabs at my shoulder, I turn and throw a fist wildly in his direction, completely missing. Somebody grabs me from behind, his arms around mine and his hand on my neck. I try to rip free, but stumble and fall onto the cold wet grass of a stranger’s lawn. I’m defeated, tired, and immobilized I give up my fight. There’s now a half dozen people around me, half of which are holding me to the ground. I feel the tears forming in my eyes, I begin crying again, not knowing what I’m doing, or where my life is going. I’m no longer in control of my actions or emotions. It’s quiet now, and I begin to catch my breath. The soft sound of the rain hitting the pavement is relaxing my muscles, and finally everyone realized that I’ve given up.

“Come back to the house, please,” my friend Casey tells me with a sweet soft voice. Looking into her troubled eyes I know I must do as I’m told. She helps me to my feet, more alcohol must have kicked in because though a few minutes ago I was sprinting, I can now barely stand. With an arm supporting me, I make my way back to Matt’s house. Now I just make it through the door and into the garage when I feel the cold comfort of the hard cement floor. Right now it’s the most comfortable place in the world to me, it feels like I belong there somehow. I pass out.

I wake up, cold, and still slightly wet from last nights happenings. I check my surroundings and realize that I’m in the hallway, there’s a blanket on top of me, and a pillow by my head. I have no idea how I got here, or how I ended up with such riches as a pillow. My brain pounds in my skull, and I don’t want to move. I pull myself up and use the bathroom, I look at myself in the mirror. I look like shit. My hair is slept in, and my clothes stained with dirt and grass, my eyes look like I haven’t slept in weeks.

“Are you okay?” I hear somebody ask me. Huh, how can I answer a question like that, I have no idea what okay is, so how can I know if I am okay. I don’t say anything, or look at anyone from sheer shame. I stumble out the front door, still in a fog, and begin to make my way to my house up the street. I feel the eyes staring at the back of my head through the living room window. What did I do? Why did I do that? How did that happen? A million questions flooded my mind and I couldn’t even respond to any of them.
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Senior Member
I'm trying to read it, but my tired old eyes need paragraph breaks. I'll come back to it later - the bit I read looks interesting - but you would do well to go back and edit it with line breaks between paragraphs.