Bitter.

It's been a day of nasty discoveries.

I'm not the sort who floats through life on a hope and a dream. I know how it is. I get it. I learned early on that shit does, in fact, happen, and there's a lot of stuff that sucks in this world. Yeah, yeah, you're all rolling your eyes at my melodrama. But really. I'm well aware of the grittier aspects of the human experience.

Anyway.

As it turns out, my twentieth high school reunion was last weekend. No, I did not go. I didn't even know it was happening until after the fact. I would not have gone had I known. I don't remember all those people. I really don't. I have no idea who they are. None. Hmm. Must have been my hard living after school, but I have very little recollection of my teen years. Oh, yes. I did spend the majority of my high school time hanging out in bars. Suppose that might have contributed to the fuzzy recollections.

Anyway.

There are some specific events I do remember from high school. Oddly, the costars for two of my favorite moments are now dead. How terribly, awfully sad.

Here is one:

It was a snow day, and a beautiful one. No school. A boy named Paul phoned me. his dad and mine worked together, don't remember exactly how that was, but not important here. I didn't know Paul well. I saw him at school, and at dad-work-related functions. He was shy, quiet, very polite. A Nice Boy. I, on the other hand, was a Troubled Youth. Sullen, unhappy, disagreeable. So it was odd, to say the least, that Paul called me that day. He invited me over to play in the snow.

So I did. We did all the appropriate snow day activities: made snowballs, built a snowman, rolled down snowy hills. I laughed more that day than I think I ever had before. It was FUN. An unusual concept for me. Paul was nice, we had a great time. We discovered we had much in common. I went home happy and exhausted. I wondered if maybe he and I were beginning a friendship. Or something.

The next day, it was as if nothing had ever happened. Paul was shy and quiet again. I was too tortured by my own insecurities to say anything to him. We were polite, yet distant, at future events.

Then I moved. So did he. I never heard what happened to him.

Until this morning.

Paul drowned about 15 years ago. Possibly suicide.

He deserved so much more from life. Yes, I am bitter, for the very nice boy I knew and liked so well. Another example of shit that sucks.

I'm sorry, Paul. If you see my Dad, he can catch you up on what's been going on with me. And, hey, say hi to Bill for me, would you?

As for Bill...he'll get his own post. Later.