This is a story of friendship, commitment, love and trust. It is not a sex story. However, this story deals with love between male teenagers. If you are offended by stories involving love between two teenage boys, please do not read this story. There may be some sex scenes in this story; however, sex is not the main theme. If you are under age 18 or 21 or it is illegal to read this story where you live, don't read it. Reproducing this story for distribution without the owner's permission is a violation of that copyright.
Author's Comment: This is a short essay - If you like it let me know and I'll make it into a series. Of essays.
An Essay on What I Love about You
Two years ago my parents dragged me off to an end of summer picnic. I hated picnics after all they're nothing more than a chance for me to reflect once again on how much I couldn't do. All I could do was watch the other kids older, younger or the same age run, jump, climb or just play because nobody wants a damn cripple to play with unless it's one of those wonderful games like `tease the crip'. Bile is sweet nectar compared to how I felt. Can you say bitter.
The only reason I went was so the rents could have a good time. It was a time when they could socialize. I owed it to them because not every parent has to put up with a crip, especially one who's gay (and I don't mean happy), twenty-four-seven.
Through all this shroud of self-pity and gloom I spotted those eyes, eyes that reflected my sadness. I could not stop looking at them. There was such sadness and yet such beauty in those eyes. Eyes that took me out of my own misery and I smiled.
I knew that speck of happiness I was feeling would soon disappear. I decided to end it. I got up and walked to my parents to tell them I was going to wait in the car. It's amazing how often they accept the `I've got a headache' excuse. Maybe they don't care about me hiding in the car. Maybe they are happy I'm going to hide; you know out of sight, out mind.
In my usual clumsiness I took the millionth trip of my life and ended up as usual flat on my face. I lay there wanting to cry, wanting to die.
"God, am I just a joke for everyone to laugh at? Why the fuck me? Well, fuck you God!" I thought hoping that I'd piss Him off and he'd send a lightening bolt my way.
But he didn't, he sent an angel.
"Hey, you okay?"
"Yeah," I muttered looking up to see those eyes, those incredibly blue eyes. All I could do was stare into those eyes. I saw a smile slowly creep on to his angelic face. A smile so sweet, so full of kindness that I was once again lifted out of the gloom of my existence.
"Sure?" my angel asked.
"Yeah," I replied as I turned over and sat up.
"Philip," he said extending his hand.
"No. I'm Josh."
He giggled. "Right! I'm Philip. My name is Philip."
I blushed. "Duh!" I said hitting my forehead with my palm.
He giggle, "You're funny. Do you fall a lot?"
"Yeah, I guess. It is just part of life for me. I've got CP, Cerebral Palsy. Don't worry it's not contagious or anything like that."
He just shrugged his wide shoulders and sat down next to me. "So, you're not into sports. Neither am I. I like biking, but that's about it. I like computer games and arcade games. You ever play Counter Strike?"
"Yeah! That's my favorite game."
The look in his eyes was one I had so rarely seen, acceptance.
I have no idea what we talked about after that because I was too fascinated by his brown curly hair, his lips, his smile, his perfect teeth, his hands, his fingers, his feet, his toes, his laugh, his giggle, his voice and of course those sparkling clear blue eyes which held a million expressions full of kindness and friendship - a friendship that over time grew into love.
Physical features are so little of what I love about Philip. I love him for the things he has done for me. Things like teaching me how to ride a bike when I and nobody else thought I could accomplish such a feat or letting me win at racquetball and insisting that he didn't.
There was a time when like a knight in shinning armor he rescued me from my mother's drug induced rage and lead me to safety and nursed my wounds both physical and spiritual.
When my mother's addiction finally ended, he sat for hours holding me in his arms letting me release my grief and listening to me dispel my hatred of the drugs that robbed me of her love.
The one thing I love most about him is that which can't be described in words. There are no words that can describe it because words are physical things used to describe physical things.
My love for Philip transcends the physical, the mental and moves right into the spiritual.I think anyone who has ever found his or her soul mate knows what I mean and if you haven't found your soul mate keep looking because there is nothing to compare with finding your soul mate. Nothing.