[ 1345. ]
yeah yeah youve heard all this before

So there's this guy I used to know, who jumped off the GWB and died, a long time ago. For some reason for the past few weeks every time I drive past the bridge, I think about him and I DON'T KNOW WHY. I mean, think past the point of "oh lol that reminds me," think like -- reminiscing. But I didn't even really KNOW the guy. We talked for like a couple of weeks and then avoided each other for the rest of high school and pretended the other didn't exist so what the hell.

It's weird -- how I end up remembering the people who argue with me. Not like really argue-argue as in you end up hating each other, but arguing like -- talking theory and morals and values and fighting over beliefs and stuff. We had a table in the library and I'd go there during free periods and he'd be there doing homework or reading or something and I'd just go sit down and we'd ARGUE FOR AN HOUR and then leave. That's it, that's like -- the extent of our "friendship." We never talked outside of that one hour every couple of days.

He was the kinda guy that people were afraid of, but then again people were afraid of ME which I don't understand at all so that doesn't really say much, huh? Uh, like really stern and serious and set in his ways and driven and stuck up and scornful and -- he really hated the world. We used to argue about that too, him saying everybody was selfish and how genuinely good people didn't exist and me arguing the opposite. If I recall correctly he had some pretty fucked up views about gender roles and social roles and stuff about how humans should have gone back to their basic instincts and just gone all hunter/predator/animal on each other which was kind of fascinating because he was a pretty intelligent kid (I mean, we were like 16, who the hell seriously thinks about this stuff in HS) and he actually believed this shit.

I don't think he had any friends. Or he had just one, this other kid who was a total douchebag to everybody for no reason that anybody could figure out, who everybody hated. I never understood why he hung out with douchebag kid, maybe he had nowhere else to go. But then they seemed to like each other and like hating everybody else together so -- I don't know. He hated asian people (he was Korean) for being asian and black people for being black and white people for being white and gay people for being gay and all the rich kids in the school for taking everything for granted and I'm pretty sure he didn't have a father or his father had walked out on his family and it was him and his mother and a little sister -- but he didn't hate me. He'd actually talk and tell me things, which just -- kinda makes me feel worse.

I don't know why I think about him when I do. I want to go back and -- do something. It's not even a matter of preventing the suicide, it's just why didn't I get to know him better? How come we never hung out besides the arguing? Why'd I stop going to the library? I honestly don't remember why I stopped. And all of that stuff, WHY ME, I didn't even know him, I didn't even find out about his suicide except from a friend of a friend who heard it on facebook through his sister. So how come I keep thinking back and feeling like I missed some sort of chance, like some sort of fate-door was open for just a few weeks and I just -- didn't notice or something? How come when I think back I feel like it was a connection I lost and not just some acquaintance that hated everybody? How come I feel worse about him than if it had been someone random else that I'd actually been friendly with?

I wonder if there's an afterlife.

i just need to thoughtdump once in a while

eta: I remember the goddamned room, and it's been... four, five years since I set foot in there. I remember the carpet, and how the trees looked outside the windows, and the stupid tables with the stupid borders and gray tops, and the wooden chairs that hurt your ass if you sat in them too long. The chairs were too wide for me, and the tables too low, and you couldn't even lean back comfortably. I remember the bookcases and the computer lab to one side and the counter at the desk and the cubbies for backpacks near the door and the white painted faux bricks that made up the entryway. I remember the lights, I remember the racks of magazines separate from the books. I remember how they used to have romance novels in a separate little stack in one corner. I remember the cars outside in the front parking lot. I remember walking in and he'd be in there waiting and doing work or reading or something and I'd go in and sit and he'd keep glancing across at me like he wanted to start talking or arguing but he was waiting for me to start, so I'd put down what I was doing and start for him. I remember what he looked like -- sort of unusual, for an asian guy. He sort of had a square-ish head and these suspicious eyes and -- sort of like a mix between Kurogane from TRC and Zoro from OP, except real. Which was really weird. I remember what his voice sounded like. I remember he had this gray shirt he'd wear a lot, not exactly a t-shirt, had one of those weird round collars (that I look terrible in). I think I remember him laughing, I'm pretty sure I made him laugh once or twice. Why can't I remember what about?

Why is this one of my clearest memories? Of anything?