One day, I’d really like to meet the guy that said being a teenager is a fun, carefree time in a person’s life and sock him in the face. You know, one of those really hard slugs, straight to the jaw – the kind of punch that you can’t lie about and tell your mom that you simply tripped over a flight of stairs at school, or a baseball hit you during P.E. No, I’m talking about one of those punches that have a green neon sign flashing I have been socked. You’ve seen one of those, haven’t you? Yeah, they aren’t very pretty, but then again, neither is being a teenager.

Right about now, I’ve got the coldest water hitting my head, and the only sound I can hear is the splatter of water all around me. Some people don’t like cold showers, but I do. You know why? Probably not, so I’ll tell you.

With a cold shower, when you get in, it shocks you a little at first, but you’re expecting the shock, so you can deal with it. Furthermore, you can control when you want the warm water to start coming in, for when you need to do the shampoo and conditioner crap. That’s what I think life should be in a lot of ways. It should throw you surprises, but none that you can’t handle or don’t know about in advance.

Life should be a cold shower.

I finally got out of the shower after a solid twenty minutes and started drying myself. I could probably go into detail about how good it felt to have a nicely warmed towel that was in the dryer only thirty minutes ago, but then you’d probably get all disgusted. If I were a girl, I bet half of you would be gripping your seats, waiting in stark anticipation. But, nah, I’m a guy, and I’m not even sure most queers would find me attractive.

Just as I was finishing drying off, I heard the phone ringing. I would’ve answered it, cause there’s a phone in my room, but I didn’t want to do it naked. There would be a small chance that my mother would walk in on me answering the phone naked, and she’d probably think I was having phone sex with one of my girl friends. If that happened, I’d have to go through this huge talk with her about sex and responsibility, and all that crap, and I would’ve wasted a good hour of my evening.

Nah, I think I’ll just let the phone ring for a while.

When I got into my room, the phone had stopped ringing. I let out a low whistle, and booted up my computer when my mom walked in. No knock, mind you. I know she pays the mortgage and all, but for chrissakes, you think she’d have the decency to knock. Who knows, I could’ve been doing stand-up push-ups against the door, and she could’ve knocked me unconscious by just opening it. Or worse yet, she could’ve caught me jerking it. Hah, I assure you, that would be longer than a one-hour conversation.

I looked up at her, and she was sorting some mail in her hands. Seemed like she was going to bed for the night, and was just coming in to say goodnight when she said, “Just wanted to tell you… Kristen called.”

That got my attention. Suddenly, I wanted my room to be empty, and fast. I flicked on the button for my computer monitor and turned around to face her.

“Thanks, you can leave now. And knock next time?”

“Hah, okay, if you don’t want to hear the second part of the message, sure.”

She just kept looking down at her mail, with a grin crawling over her mouth. She knew that she had me. God, she had me.

“Okay, okay, sorry. Thanks for the first half. Now what’s the other?”

“Hmm… all she said was check your e-mail. You kids and your e-mail these days. You’re not doing anything bad online, are you?”

As I was pushing her out, I gruffly assured her of course not, and shut the door securely.

I have to be honest with you. After such a shitty day, I was very excited to read a couple pieces of computer code. And why should I not be? After all, Kristen is very hot.

Now, don’t get me wrong. She’s not just hot, she’s intelligent, and sweet, and all that other kind of personality crap, but goddamn, she’s a number, all right. I sat in front of my computer eagerly, and logged onto my e-mail account. Quickly, I moved the cursor over to the Inbox, and sure enough, there it was. 1 unopened message from krissy85@hotmail.com. I almost opened it, but thought again. If I did open it, I’d probably be so consumed with what she had to say that I’d forget my entire day, and wouldn’t have anything to reply back with. I don’t know why that happens, but Kristen has a way of doing that to me.

So, I moved the cursor to compose, filled out her e-mail address on the To Address, and started writing.

Dear Kristen,

By the looks of your regained ability to use e-mail, I am assuming that you’re back in town. How was San Diego? God, I really missed you.

Today had to be the shittiest day in a long time, but the thought of you kept me going. First, in the morning, we got the mid-term back from Calc. I got rocked, but I think you got a 94. At least one of us is going to pass that class with an A, right? :)

During lunch, all of the guys were acting sort of cold to me, so I asked what was wrong. They said I wasn’t placing much trust in them, but that’s a load of bull. The truth of the matter is, whenever I talk to you, I feel so much better that I don’t really need to confide in the guys. And it’s so much easier to confide in you, because I’ve done so in the past. Well, I didn’t feel comfortable saying all that to them, so I shrugged it off, and they got even more mad at me. Let’s just say, we didn’t end lunch on good terms.

Practice was hell today. We had to do ladders – 2 400’s, 4 200’s, 6 100’s, all of it only a few seconds off race time. I talked with your swimming coach, and he expressed concern about your season. They need you! Haha, I guess everyone needs you, Kristen. I need you most, though, don’t forget!

I’m really glad you’re home. Let’s hang out this weekend.

Love,
Jeff.

Reading the e-mail for any errors, I couldn't help but picture her face. God, if you saw her, you'd be amazed too. She could make Jello get hard. And, when she opened her mouth and talked, jesus! It wasn't just sexy.. it was.. more. You know what I mean? It was intoxicating, and yet relaxing to hear her talk. Now, I bet you're thinking, all this mental image from a friggin e-mail? Hah, well, you don't know my Kristen.

Satisfied, I clicked the “Send” button, and almost damn near slid the mouse off the pad getting back to my Inbox. I opened up the e-mail, and you couldn’t have found a larger smile anywhere in the world than the one on my face.

Dearest Jeff,

God, there’s so much to say, and I’m so excited to say it all! First off, San Diego was great! I went water-skiing, roller-skating, swimming, tanning, and a whole lot of other fun stuff. But let me tell you about the best part of the trip!

You know how you’ve been saying I’ve got to get over Colin and all? Well, I finally got over him, all thanks to you Jeff. I really owe you one. I was sitting on the beach yesterday, just thinking about what you said to me. How there are so many other boys, and I’m only 16, so I shouldn’t be attaching myself to only one. And, I can’t describe it, but I saw this guy walking by, and it’s none other than Robbie Seale, the guy in our Calculus class. It was right then, in that moment, that all you’ve ever said absorbed into me, and I finally understood it, Jeff! I knew, right then, that I couldn’t just mope about Colin any longer. So I talked to Robbie, and we really hit it off well, and he even asked me out to see a movie this Saturday! God, isn’t that great!?

I know we haven’t had much time to talk, so maybe I could call you after my date. God, it’s so funny saying it, or typing it, for that matter. I have a date, and it’s not with Colin. Three days ago, and I would’ve said it wasn’t possible, but…!

You’re just the greatest, Jeff. You’ve helped me through so much, and I just want you to know, without you, this wouldn’t have been possible.

Love,
Kristen.

Suicide is selfish.

But then again, so is Kristen.

But committing suicide won’t accomplish anything. Everyone goes through this time in his life. Everyone manages to get over it. I should be a man, and not let it get to me.

On the other hand, no one goes through what you go through. Your experiences are unique.

That’s a load of shit! I mean, everyone’s experiences are unique. How does the intensity of my situation differ from any other teenager? It doesn’t.

Maybe you’re right.

Of course I’m right. Come on, let’s turn on the shower.

A cold one?

Sure. A cold one.

I hope you've had a decent read,
Ciao,
-WarLeaderJustin