Ive spent most of life, not living but surviving, and I mean I guess thats part of living, but I know that it isnt all normal people do. I know people cry, and smile, and laugh, and break down, and sing. For me, at least for the last three years its been mostly crying and breaking down, but only in the silence of my room. I couldnt let my father see me like at my very worse when he saw the second worse thing everyday. But this story isnt about my pain, or suffering. Its about healing. Its about who healed me. Cameron. A beautiful name for a beautiful boy with a beautiful heart. Without him, I couldnt tell this story. I wouldnt have the heart to tell you a story without a happy ending.

I was running down the street, listening to a song that has never escaped my memory. It was morning and if my music hadnt been on full blast, you could hear every robin within a ten mile radius. I had just moved to this tiny town, so I had a tendency of getting lost on my morning runs, not that I minded it much. At any time of the day, in one way or another I was getting lost in something. My music, my writing, my story.
I continued to run down the narrow street, with my head hanging down, giving me the illusion that I was moving faster than I was. As my favorite song on my workout playlist began I fell to the ground. In a split second I was on my back and I had unintentionally met the person who would ultimately make me tell this story.
When I looked up, I was slightly stunned but completely ready to hide my intrigue with annoyance, even though this accident was probably my fault.
"You ok?" he asked.
And with my perfected 'who the hell do you think you are' face, I said, "Yea, fine."
"You know you really shouldnt take your eyes off the road," he chuckled, making it seem like a complete joke.
"Ill make a note of that."
"You new in town?" he asked.
Hestitating I said, "Ive been here four months, I moved into that old blue house and the top of the hill", I signaled with a nod of my head, but he seemed to know exactly what house I was talking about.
"Where'd you move from?"
I was getting tired with our 20 questions game but I answered anyway, "I moved from downtown. The Catholic School I was in is relocating, so apparently to my dad that means relocate to the 'burbs."
He laughed and said, "Catholic school? Well that explains everything."
Now it was my turn to ask the questions. "What is that supposed to mean?"
With a smirk on his face, he moved a bit closer and said, "Have you ever even been this close to a guy before?"
At first I wanted to hit him, and then I wanted to scream, and then I wanted to cry. But years of therapy have taught me how to avoid all three of those. So I went with option four.
"If you can believe it, Ive been even closer."
Yep, flirting.
Caught offguard, but quickly regainging his composure he said, "Prove it."
With almost no hesitation I hopped off the curb, two inches from his face, teasing him, making him think I wasnt planning on doing anything. After about five seconds of false complacincy, I kissed him. Now nothing I could of said could have made him more surprised than he was now. He almost jumped back, but stood his ground. I think he was waiting to see what my reaction would be afterwards, but I was not going to be the one to end it. He started to wrap his arms around me but my phone rang and we were both equally startled. I didnt look at him when I answered it, it was my dad. He was just telling me to get back for breakfast. When I hung up the phone Cameron looked at me, with a look that I couldnt quite make out. I knew he was still shocked, so I put in my headphones, and ran off. When I got about ten feet away, I turned around and said, "Ive been closer", and continued home to my dad.