Friday September 13, 2013
I was content, with my life that is. It was…enough. 2013 was the start of my Junior year in high school. Over the previous two years I had created somewhat of a name for myself in the high school society. As a kid I was always interested in developed photos and the devices that captured those pictures, so on my 13th birthday my parents got me my first camera. I carried my camera everywhere. I loved to take pictures of people and what they were doing. It was fun to capture people in the activity of life.
I brought this hobby along with me into my high school career by joining yearbook. Being the yearbook photographer I had the pass of carrying my camera through the halls and taking pictures whenever I pleased. Wasn’t long until people started to recognize me as the guy with the camera. A number of people knew of me but not too many “knew” me, and I was fine with that. I was happy just being an observer, on the other side of the lens. In just one year I got to observe a lot of people, I learned their story, what made them “them”, and her story was by far the most interesting.
April Meadows, a beautiful name for an even more beautiful girl, but it wasn’t her beauty that set April apart from the others, it was deeper than that. She was adventurous, kind, and mature, it brought a freshness that seemed to be lacking in others. She had an interesting look on the world, one I spent an two entire years wishing I could view through her eyes, and on that Friday the 13th I was given a chance to. She turned to me after class that day and asked “can you help me?” I didn’t know then that my answer to those four words would decide such a huge part of my futures. I said yeah and she went on to explain her request. She wanted to get a camera so that she could go out and “capture the wonders of the world” (her words not mine), and naturally I obliged.
I was now on a mission to teach April Meadows how to use a camera. We went on lesson adventures and they were more fun than work. Before I knew it I found myself writing about my time with her in my journal that my older brother gave me. At first they were only weekly entries but we started to hang out more and she soon became all I would write about. The time we spent together made us close. She once told me, that Friday the 13th was “the luckiest day of her life” because she met her “best friend” that day. As for me…I met my reason to write.
It’s been nearly two years since I first met April. I have two years of journal entries about one girl. I always wondered if I was crazy; I thought if someone were to find my journal it would be the end of me. Figured I would die of shame and embarrassment. Well two years later someone did find it and the name of this invader of privacy is Malcolm. A new friend of mine I found when I moved to Los Angeles.
Not sure why, but he loved my journal. So much that he got this crazy idea that I should make a book. Now this wasn’t the first time Malcolm has had a croc pot idea, the man eat, sleeps, breathes crazy ideas. But, it still sounded ridiculous to put my private journal in a public place that everyone can access. I mean, what would happen if April ever read any of it, my true feelings would be busted. I tried my best to convince him how bad of an idea this was and he tried his best to convince me of the opposite, and it is really hard to say no to Malcolm (the man has a way with words). So I caved. But sorry, I’m no writer. As much as I was against the idea of any part of my journal being public, I settled for an outlet that allowed for a little less formality. So was the birth of this blog! The public journal of a boy in love.