I have lived in this home for fourteen years, five months, and sixteen days and counting. From brown to white carpet, from hawaiian to purple rooms, from piano to guitar, and from birth to present. I grew up on that street, seen neighbors leave just to have new strangers move in. I would rather not waste my time getting to know them, although I would love a best friend in my neighborhood. My neighbors next to me have gone from cat to cat to cat, some which we’ve seen and others we never had the chance to meet. They also used to play with nerf guns and bring friends over, I would hear them from my window and listen to their jokes and sometimes peek over the brick wall which separated risk from safety.
Then one day, they didn’t come out to play and all I could hear was the screaming inside and frustrated yelling after losing their newest game. I saw them bring a girl over once. I don’t remember if I met her or not. It was new to me, and I didn’t understand and couldn’t comprehend why. The whole idea that this little boy who I had seen shoot nerf guns at his brother and shoot hoops in front with us, now had someone special, and that shocked me. So I sat in my room and began to close the windows, because it was pointless to bother and sit and watch now.
I don’t talk to them much anymore, and I miss it. I don’t know how to start the conversation, because how do you say hello to someone you haven’t talked to in four years, who now drives a car and has a girlfriend and is leaving for college soon? So what’s the point? What the heck is the point?