True Colors assignment

Let me preface this by saying I really didn't want to write about Austin. I let him know this on several occasions, and he was (predictably) unsympathetic. But since I'm at the end of the row in class and left with virtually no alternatives--aside from writing my blog about an empty chair--I suppose I will be writing about Austin.

The reason I didn't want to write about Austin is because no one wants to hear me talk about Austin. I talk about him too much as it is, and even now I'm trying to formulate a concise way to describe him without a) going on and on for days, or b) boring people and/or making them sick. So to (hopefully) put it briefly, Austin is the most amazing boy I have ever encountered, and color-wise, I think he's red and blue. Sometimes he's red, when he picks me up and carries me over his shoulder like I'm his backpack or something. Sometimes he's blue, when I decide to take up the entire couch for a nap and tell him to sit on the floor. And sometimes he's red and blue, sometimes he's purple, when he's making fun of the way I talk. (Tour is pronounced TOO-ER, not TOR.) I don't know why these situations make me associate him with those colors, but they do. I think he would put his stamp of approval on that, both figuratively and literally.

But the thing I admire most about this boy I sit next to in English is his tolerance level. It takes a lot to put up with me sometimes, and he has to deal with it every single day. And the weirdest part? He claims he doesn't mind. I think he might be a keeper.