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personal glurge
Feb. 14th, 2007 05:26 pmi found his proposal years after he had drawn it. he lived two floors down on the other side of the hall but i can't remember his name or how we met. i think he might have just knocked on my door to borrow paint - he was making something for school.
his living room had lots of orange and we sat on the floor. he showed me his project and i showed him my art supplies. i had a wooden wine box with my grandad's watercolours (my inheritance; his half squeezed tubes i was saving for when my technique was better) and my own everyday supplies. i loaned him the box (explaining about my grandad's paints) and we hung out. he returned everything a few days later and we spent more time together then hung out for the next week or so. (it was a nice change from being targeted by the sharp blonde kid down the hall who never let me pass without being a jerk.)
the next time i needed my supplies, i realized many of my grandad's tubes of paint were flat - including most of an almost new little box of six. i was devastated. and angry. i didn't speak with him again. he was confused the first few times we crossed paths but eventually he ignored me too. by the time it occurred to me he might not have done it on purpose, it was too late to make things right. i let it go. i don't remember when he moved away.
packing my things when it was my turn to move - i was organizing my art supplies, flipping through a small sketchbook i used a couple times then abandoned. halfway through, sandwiched between an inch of blank pages on either side, was a drawing i didn't recognize. two faces - one brown boy and one pink girl. written in black underneath them was, "let's be friends!"
his living room had lots of orange and we sat on the floor. he showed me his project and i showed him my art supplies. i had a wooden wine box with my grandad's watercolours (my inheritance; his half squeezed tubes i was saving for when my technique was better) and my own everyday supplies. i loaned him the box (explaining about my grandad's paints) and we hung out. he returned everything a few days later and we spent more time together then hung out for the next week or so. (it was a nice change from being targeted by the sharp blonde kid down the hall who never let me pass without being a jerk.)
the next time i needed my supplies, i realized many of my grandad's tubes of paint were flat - including most of an almost new little box of six. i was devastated. and angry. i didn't speak with him again. he was confused the first few times we crossed paths but eventually he ignored me too. by the time it occurred to me he might not have done it on purpose, it was too late to make things right. i let it go. i don't remember when he moved away.
packing my things when it was my turn to move - i was organizing my art supplies, flipping through a small sketchbook i used a couple times then abandoned. halfway through, sandwiched between an inch of blank pages on either side, was a drawing i didn't recognize. two faces - one brown boy and one pink girl. written in black underneath them was, "let's be friends!"
