I've been making up words

  At the top of my lungs

  At the tip of my tongue

  Ease up, and leave me some

  Yeah, I've been making up words

  '??????Cause there aren't any more

  -- “Making Up Words”, Bug Hunter

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  - Popper -

  (January)

  Aiden writes better than me, which you’d figure out on your own even if I didn’t mention it. Last night, we were sitting in my apartment, next to a fire that he literally started with his own hands. We stayed up late and talked. Him about him and me about me and both of us about the possibility of us. He started to tell me about his accident, about how he got his powers, but then he stopped in the middle of a sentence and just looked at me, thinking. I’m good with jokes at moments like that, but I didn’t say anything and I’m glad I didn’t. Without speaking he stood and walked to my dad’s office, where he’s been keeping some things that he didn’t want to leave at his apartment.

  He came back a minute later with two journals. He handed them to me gently, like they might break or maybe like he might break if he gave them away too suddenly. He gave me the books and in a voice that nearly made me cry he asked me to read them. So I did, after he left for the night. They cover his story from just after his accident until just after our first big fight. It was good and I learned a lot. About him, of course, but also about me, for there are parts of our separate journeys that seem the same. Which got me thinking.

  So I went out and bought this journal today and now I’m going to try to write some of my thoughts as well.

  Wish me luck.