I tried to force myself not to be obsessed with Patrick; he was just supposed to be my friend. Our friendship has lasted for nearly ten years, since we were both eight, and as the days and years passed I’ve watched as Patrick has grown and evolved. I realized how much I wanted to be more than just his friend. Not only is Patrick impossibly beautiful: six-four, jet black hair, stunning light brown-colored eyes, and an amazingly muscular, well-endowed body (I’ve seen him naked once and that wonderful image has remained in my memory in vivid detail since), but he had like a cool personality--laidback, honest, funny. He had basically all the things I would want in a boyfriend. 

But, I understand now, after everything that has happened, that if you don’t want your secrets revealed, then it’s not the best thing to write them in a journal, because there’s always the probable chance (and in my case, definite chance) that somebody would get a hold of it and read it--especially if that someone is the one person you don’t want to read it...in my case Patrick. 

More than three fourths of my journal is dedicated to my obsession with Patrick, how fuckin sexy he is, how I wanna suck his nine inch dick--and then ride it, how I think about him everyday, how I wish his bitch-ass girlfriend Rose, would fall down a spiral staircase and break her neck--or at least her leg--and stuff related to that. I really wish I didn’t like Patrick the way I did, mostly because I knew that the feelings I had for him--both sexual and emotional--wouldn’t be returned. There was nothing about Patrick, well at least to me, that indicated that he might be into dudes. I mean he was just one of the most jockiest jocks I ever saw in my life. And he and Rose always found ways to kiss and feel each other up in public or around me. I hated watching Patrick and Rose kiss, because he kissed her the way I wanted someone--Patrick in particular--to kiss me: slowly, eyes closed, forgetting about the whole world as though there was nobody left except for us two and that moment. 

I’ve never met a dude that I had a greater or at least equal attraction as I did with Patrick. Nobody in my high school is as attractive or has any of the great personality features as Patrick. Well that’s not completely true. There are a lot of good-looking boys at my school. I mean, I’ve fucked with a few dudes here and there, but it really didn’t mean anything to me or the people I messed with. I was tired of wasting myself on people who didn’t matter, and I was also tired of waiting for Patrick to see me the way I saw him. It just wasn’t going to happen. I would write, over and over in my journal: Get over it, Sean, PK (Patrick Knight) will never like you the way you like him. Either find someone else to obsess over...or just be lonely. But I really didn’t want to do either. 

When I got to school, on a overcast Tuesday morning, I headed directly for my locker, and started to stash all the heavy textbooks in my backpack inside. including my journal, when a hard hand slapped my back. I turned around to see Patrick standing behind me, brown eyes flashing, giving me one of his brilliant, sexy, smiles. “Yo, Sean. What’s up?”

Taking out my Chemistry textbook, I said, “Nothin special.” It was always a real challenge to act cool in front of Patrick, to pretend as though he had no affect on me. Everyday it got harder to pretend. Patrick’s locker was directly next to mine I watched, kinda discreetly, as he unpacked his bookbag and stashed them into his locker. Patrick dropped something, bent down to pick it up. The tail of his shirt came up and I saw that he was wearing a pair of tight ass white Calvin Kleins to cover his tight ass. “Did you do the homework for math last night?” Patrick asked.

“No. I was hopin you did it so I could copy off yours,” I said. 

Patrick saw my picture of a shirtless male model taped to the inside of my locker door and said, “What’s up with that?” 

“Inspiration for the one day of the week I choose to go to the gym.”

Patrick smiled again and playfully punched me in the chest--kinda hard, but I didn’t wince, I just smiled back. “You got Chem right now, don’t you?” he asked. 

“Yeah. I gotta hurry up and get there `fore I’m late.”

Closing his locker, Patrick said, “I’ll walk with you. My history class is right next door.”

It was difficult to hide my excitement, but I managed. “Cool.” I said without much vigor. I closed my locker door, but I didn’t remember to clear the combination lock. Just as we were about to walk off to class, Patrick’s strikingly gorgeous and cold-hearted girlfriend, Rose White, came walking toward us, very gracefully, almost like a model striding down a runway. It was obvious why Patrick was physically attracted to Rose: she had a good height, maybe five-seven or five-eight, she had incredible raven-colored hair that reached down to her back, mesmerizing dark eyes, and an astounding body. It was her personality that really made me wonder how Patrick could be so attracted to Rose. She was rude and cruel to just about all people, and she really didn’t respect Patrick all that well either. Rose made it clear many times that Patrick wasn’t all that important to him, and that perhaps the only reason she was with him in the first place, was because he was one of the most popular and good-looking dudes in school. None of the other aspects of Patrick appealed to her. But Patrick continued to be drawn to her, as though she were some witch casting a spell over him. There’s not that many things I don’t like about Patrick, but one of them is that sometimes he doesn’t see what’s right in front of them--he doesn’t see people for the way they really are. Rose came walking up to us. She saw me standing next to Patrick, but she completely disregarded me as though I wasn’t there. It surprised me that even though she didn’t really really like Patrick, she was jealous of Patrick and I’s friendship. Rose had no real friends herself. Her relationship with Patrick was her only connection to people. 

“Where were last night, Patrick? Called you like a thousand times,” Rose said sharply. 

Patrick shrugged like a little boy who had been caught doing something bad by his mother. “I was out with my boys. Just hangin around.”
“Next time I call it would be nice if you answered,” Rose said in the same tone. “I don’t like wasting minutes on my cell phone to leave messages that don’t get returned Patrick. So unless you wanna pay for the phone bill, pick up the goddamn phone.”

“Don’t get all stressed out, Rose,” Patrick said lightly. “Makes you get those wrinkles on your forehead.”

Rose rolled her eyes. She wrapped her long thin arms around Patrick’s slightly thick neck, brought his head down to hers, and kissed him deeply, shoving him against the row of lockers. People around us watched and giggled, making those little “ooohh” sounds. I wanted to throw up. When they finally stopped kissing, which seemed to be ten years later, Rose looked at me. It was a cold look, it was a look that said, ‘I have what you want and you’ll never be able to have it.” I felt the anger rising up inside of me, but of course I wouldn’t show it. “Walk me to my Calculus class,” Rose said to Patrick.

“I was gonna walk with Sean. His class is right next to mine.”

“Walk me to class, Patrick,” Rose said very emphatically. “I don’t want to go by myself. I might get harrassed by some ugly freshman.”

Patrick looked defeated. He turned to me and said, “Alright, Sean. I’ll see you later.” There was a little bit of disappointment on his gorgeous face. 

“See you later,” I replied back. I watched as they walked off together, with their arms around each others’ waists. Patrick turned around once to look at me again. Our eyes met for a few seconds and then he turned back around and disappeared around a corner. I could feel my heartbeat slowing and slowing almost to the point where I thought it had stopped beating altogether. The bell rang and I ran to class as fast as possible.

* * *

“What are you thinkin about?” Danny asked me. We were sitting alone at a table in the cafeteria during lunch period. The room was filled with students and their incredibly loud talking and laughing.

I was staring down at the cold plate of french fries, but when I heard Danny talk, I looked up. “What did you say?”

“You’ve been looking at those fries for like ten minutes now. They must be hard as bricks by now.” Danny bit into his hamburger and made the most horrible grimace. He spit it out and yelled, “This tastes like dog shit with ketchup on it.” He pushed his plate aside. “So, really Sean. What are you thinking about?”

“Huh? What? Oh...nobody.”

Danny rolled his eyes. “Can you ever have one moment in life when you’re not thinkin about that boy?”

I picked up one of the cold fries and ate it. It actually tasted good to me. “I don’t think about Patrick all the time. Just most of the time.”

“Well,” Danny said, “there’s other people in the world to think about besides him.”

“I don’t want to think about anyone else.”

“You’re deranged,” Danny told me.

“Is that a bad thing?” I asked.

“Yeah. It really is. Especially when the person you’re obsessed over probably isn’t even into boys.”

“He doesn’t have to be into ‘boys’. He just has to be into ‘me’.”

“Sean, he won’t like you the way you like him,” Danny told me firmly. “You need to just get over it and find somebody new.”

“I wrote that exact thing in my journal last night,” I said. “But I don’t want to get over Patrick. There’s nobody else that intrigues me the way that he does.”