Ode to Cameron Graff: A Tale of "David"

David pressed his back roughly into the back of the seat, attempting to straighten up, in the process making himself look, or so he assumed, more muscular, but every attempt at pressing himself further into the seat served only to bring his vanity and self-loathing into focus. Fuck-off dude nobodies looking at you for christ sake, your speeding along the interstate at 1 o'clock in the morning. He could never understand the reason he pressed the peddle so hard, motivating the tank that his mother had bought him for a first car to move even faster in the direction of the last place he desired to be. In the end home-is-home, the ultimate arbiter, that serene song that soothes the journeyman's soul, the envy of half-of the destitute masses of this hell-ish earth. He could still smell her perfume on his clothes. The subtle scent of Abercrombie perfume sprayed in ernest by a self-concious teenage girl. She is an absolute babe dude, probably one of the best you have ever gotten. He glanced into the back of the car and chuckled as he noticed her pan-tees tucked underneath the reclining seats. Dude!? Do not forget to trash the condom before tossing your shorts in the laundry basket!?

He paused in his thought process, the soothing melodies of The National began to pervade the atmosphere, as he realized that he could not stop contemplating that face, that beautiful face. Bro!? Are you in love? David had never felt love. In fact, he had often dumped gals if a relationship reached the point that love became a "problem", but this felt different. It felt right, Ada felt right, everything felt right.

David loves Ada, but life is not fair. David does not love life.