He who spells it with a Y

To approach this from an Anthropological point of view, I shall refrain from naming any names. That would include the name of the very person I am writing about. I shall refer to this person as ‘He Who Spelled it with a Y’, or Y for short.

Y is of average height, with hair and features you will not soon forget. Y is a very odd person, with very odd points of view on many things. He enjoys the feeling of being an outsider. He enjoys the thought that, ‘everyone in this world hates him and is out to get him’. This frame of mind is, in my opinion, typical of a teenager. But Y seems to take it, like many other things, to the extreme. Y has great potential, and I have been told that his very smart. But Y, being the “rebel” that he thinks he is, seems to almost refuse to use this great mind of his. Y when he is at school, as nothing but time to do homework and make class work up.  But he chooses, most of the time, to watch YouTube videos.

As for Y’s overall personality, well, he is completely and utterly defiant. He has to be the opposite opinion of everything you have to say. It would seem even if you say that he is funny or say anything else nice about him, he will instantly say ‘no!’.  He is stubborn and annoying and yet, he is still a good person.

There is this underlying kind heart in Y. Granted it is masked by layers of rebellious anger and inappropriate humor, it is there. Like an explorer hunting for a glimpse of a rare bird, one must hunt for that one small, tiny, brief glimpse of his kind heart. An example of such a thing would be, Y holding the door for me when I’m carrying something or going to pick up lunch with me. But then, almost as if he notice the nice and must quickly change. So, he holds the door and then pushes me, or goes to the Café with me and then ditches me right when I need him.

I suppose that I see this kindness even in his worst moments and thus I still speak to him. I find it hard to remain mad at Y for more than a few days’ even hours before I must speak to him. Beneath his long hair, I see the brain the potential. I find myself lost in the search for that kindness. I want it to come out so bad, I find myself lost more in the delusion that it is even there at all. I know what I am doing; I’ve fallen for his type before. And thus, I try so hard to stay away, but… I don’t know. I suppose there is something about him that keeps me talking. Something that keeps everyone around him coming to his rescue. Though I’m sure he sees all this differently…In fact, I’m sure.