So, not all my posts have to be about past relationships featuring girls I’ve dated or been with. A friendship is a relationship also. So this post will be about one of my best friends Ahmed. What’s nice is that I can actually use his real name. This will also not be the last post about friends of mine, just so you all know. There are many different kinds of relationships and I intend to explore them all.

Ahmed I’m Glad You’re Not Dead

By Ronald Bolosan

My dearest Ahmed,

Have I ever once said?

Since our childhood now,

That I’m glad you’re not dead?

Something we all know,

Is that you’re Egyptian.

And you’re always able,

To give me a conniption.

But you drive me to class,

Without a complaint.

Plus you’ve never once claimed,

That you were a saint.

Which neither of us are,

Especially with girls.

I’m almost worried to see,

What the future unfurls.

We could watch anime all day,

And read memes all night.

Thank the good lord,

We’ve never had a real fight.

Because I don’t really feel,

Like breaking a bone.

And the end result,

Would me being alone.

Which makes me still wonder,

Why we didn’t talk for those years.

Maybe it had to do,

With my Middle School fears.

But its one thing I regret,

Because we’d be more close.

But we turned out all right,

We each had a good enough dose,

Of one another,

Over the days.

It’s no wonder that,

People think that were baes.

We can talk about life,

And have some discussion.

And our personal opinions,

Have no repercussions.

Because you’re a good person,

And I’ve always known this.

No matter how you think,

Your soul is not an abyss.

I have no doubt of your kindness,

And truly good soul,

Especially when I look,

At you as a whole.

You’re my friend, my pal,

My companion, my brother.

And there is no way,

You’d be replaced by another.

And I may mock you,

Even make fun of your life.

But all that I say,

Should come with no strife.

It’s in good fun of course,

But you’re a true friend.

And I hope that won’t change,

Until my life’s end.





You Never Forget Your First

You never forget your first date, your first kiss, or your first love. What I have for you today is a creative writing piece about my first love. This was not my first date or my first kiss, but it was without a doubt, my first love. This was, however, her first date and her first kiss, and I would hope, I was her first love. There will be plenty of entries about this girl and how important she was in my life. I’ll never forget her. I hope you enjoy the piece as much as I enjoyed writing it through a veil of tears.

My heart is beating, and it’s not the usual rhythm of thumping that I’ve become accustomed to. Blood is coursing through my veins and I can nearly feel it travel through me. My legs are trembling as I stand and wait. I look around anxiously, but everything is a blur. All that I can identify are the flashing lights that are there to guide me through the night. My glasses are in my pocket, begging for me to grasp them and place them on my face, but my hands are shaking and miniscule drips of sweat are trickling down my forehead. I can’t breathe. It’s almost as if I’m holding my lungs with my bare hands and squeezing tighter than my clenched jaw already is, as I stand here in disbelief.

She looked amazing. I can’t help but to notice how the wind pushes her hair to one side of her shoulder as she opens the door to the lobby. Some rain droplets from outside have taken up residence on the individual strands of her long black hair. She spots me while I still admire her red velvet blouse and jean shorts that cover a small amount of her smooth olive skin. “Hey!” she yells out, and my lips prepare to speak but are so dry that my words topple over each other to form what sounds like a distant whisper. She moves closer and we begin to talk. Our words are muffled by the dull roar of the other patrons in the room and the sounds of the kids smashing buttons in the arcade nearby. After some catching up, I hand her a ticket, and for a mere instant our hands touch. My chest tightens. Her lips curve upward into a faint smile and we continue to the snack bar.

My senses are overwhelmed with the smell of warm butter and popcorn. I need to satisfy my growling stomach, and my barren desert of a mouth. I grab my snacks and we begin to walk toward the showroom, as I try not trip over my own feet. Some empty seats call out to us and we slowly sink into the leather. We were as close to each other as we could comfortably be. Time races by for what feels like an instant and the room goes black. It’s over.

I remind my legs how to stand while, I offer her my hand. The warmth of her palm lingers throughout my entire body. As we walk through the familiar gray halls my mind can’t help but wonder what was to come. I press upon the cool glass door and wait a moment for her to walk by. The scent of lemon and strawberries dances up my nostrils as she passes. The rain outside creates a delicate pitter-patter on the sidewalk. I gaze into her soft onyx eyes which suddenly begin to close. The last thing I see as my eyelids shut are her lips pursed together. She rises up on her toes as I arch forward and our lips meet for the first time. I will never forget this moment.



So here is a little back story before I jump right into the idea of a promposal. First off, what is a promposal? For those who do not know, a promposal is a clever play on words that translates to asking someone to Prom. The average person goes to Prom once in their life, and for some it is a wonderful experience. Then, there are those who decide not to go to Prom at all, and there is nothing wrong with that. Personally, I have been to Prom 4 times to date. Each and every one has had their ups and their downs, but overall I made the most out of each of them. The specific entry for this post is about my fourth Prom. I will discuss my Prom experiences in detail in the future, but for now I am focusing on the promposal aspect. A quick side note is that I was out of High School already (a college freshman to be exact) and that she was a High School Senior. So here is what I said:

Hey Prom-ette, I figured you probably fell asleep by now, but I wanted to ask you something. Now I don’t know if anyone has asked you yet, or you know if someone is planning to ask you, but I can’t live with the regret of not at least trying. So Prom-ette, I am asking if you would like to go to Prom with me? I realize that I’m probably not your first choice and you may have someone else in mind and that would be totally fine. I would honestly consider it a pleasure to go with someone as amazing and beautiful as you. And if you want to wait and see if someone else asks you or if they already have then I would be completely fine with that too. And if you didn’t want to go at all there would be no hard feelings and we could still hang out if you wanted to because I would always be up for that no matter what. And if you do want to go with me, I promise I will do a better “promposal,” live, and in person. Anyway, I just had to ask you from the bottom of my heart, so I’m sorry that you have to wake up to this, and you don’t have to answer immediately if you don’t want to. So sweet dreams Prom-ette, I hope you have a good day at work at the Diner and I’ll talk to you tomorrow if you’re not busy ❤

In case you were wondering, she said yes and the conversation that followed was one that I will always remember. The details of “Prom-ette,” and my relationship will definitely be discussed at a later time. That is a promise. Hopefully now you know what a promposal is and looks like, at least in the most basic way.