Summer's Journal: Thirty-Seventh Entry

A Mind Mage. A telepath. He saw me as a mage, and he wanted to know more about me. When I saw him next, he had planted a memory. The only reason I know that is because I checked my journal. I am very good about writing down the events of my day. And the memory didn’t correspond correctly.

The poor kid just wanted to be my friend. His name was Mike. He’s a sweetheart. And I don’t think that was a memory he implanted either. I know he was using his magic to enhance what I thought about him.

He’s alone. Totally alone in this world, and when he saw my aura, he thought I was a bad person. He had plans to kill me, before he broke into my mind without my permission. I’m glad he did.

I spoke to Chris today. I had him augment me. Mike seems like a sweetheart, but I cannot know for sure. Chris helped me put a barrier up on my own mind. Something to protect me from being read like I was. I told him what had happened.

Unlike myself, he still was upset with Mike. I don’t understand why boys think like that. Mike did something terrible to me, but he was doing it for a good reason, and Chris just saw it as being terrible.

I tried to soothe him over, by rubbing his hand with my thumb, and running my nails gently down his back like he likes. It didn’t seem to work. He promised me he wouldn’t hurt this kid. But that he would never like him.

I agreed. I didn’t want him hurt. He was just lost. I rested my head beneath Chris’ chin. I felt whole. He held me to him. I imagine it had to be one of the weirdest things anyone would ever see.

He was a “Jock” if you like to label people. He was in high standing among the social standing pyramid. He was the top of the pyramid. He was invited to the “Cool” parties and when people would vote for people to win things for the yearbook, he was always voted for something.

I was his polar opposite. I was the bottom of the scheme. The only people beneath me were the “Anarchists” and they were only beneath me because they hated everybody and everything. I have some degree of respect for some rules, some people and some things. I’m a goth. That’s who I am.

He and I, stand in stark contrast. I wear blacks and sometimes if I feel very happy, red. But not a lot. He dresses in a rainbow of colors. His blue jeans have different shades to match his many colors of shirts. When he feels very sad, he goes with navy and darker shades of blues, greens and reds. When I feel happy, and he feels sad, we seem to almost match with each other.

But its days like today, when the sun is shinning, and his shirt is bright, and he seems to be a glowing form of an archaic god of old. And I, holding onto him, in my dark shades, absorbing the light he gives off, his dark goddess.

I think I will wear red tomorrow. A red silken over shirt. Maybe crimson red lipstick. I’m blushing right now… I want to leave my lipstick mark on his cheek or neck.

I want him to know that I belong with him, and that he belongs with me.

I want everyone else to know that too.

-Dawn