I was born January twenty-first, 1985. I was an accident. My parents knew each other for about six months before they got married. After that they kinda had to. Dad's excuse was that he'd been in a motorcycle accident and couldn't have anymore kids. (I don't wanna wear a condom here's this reason why i won't get you pregnant.) I'm not sure if that's true or not. I know he said that but it's debatable whether or not the doc did.
When I was born my siblings were 'bout 13 years older than me. So even if I had siblings I always felt alone. My childhood overall wasn't bad. Things were simple. I was oblivious to a lotta problems of the world. I felt free. I was selfish. I didn't need anything. I didn't have any worries. I was a moron. Sure I was in the advanced classes but what the hell did I really know? Not a damned thing. And I was happy.
As I grew up the classes got harder. Life got harder. I'd say girls became more apparent but to be quite honest they were always there in my eyes. I dropped my AP classes. The math teacher usually gave me a bitchy look if I talked to my old classmates. It was her class that forced me out of all my classes. Just wanted to drop the one but it was all or nuthin. So, regular level classes all across the board. Was hard to say I couldn't hack it. I always hated it. Stayin' up til 11 and no one really able to show me how to multiply and divide fractions 'cause they didn't know. I felt so stupid. I felt helpless. My siblings that did know how to do stuff like that had work and homework of their own to do. I was alone. My parents just couldn't help. As much as they wanted to, I'd already outgrown a lot of what they knew how to do.
There's a huge difference between Advanced Placement and Level classes. In AP everybody was pretty well stressed, there was always homework, and mostly the students were mostly white. Nobody did drugs, nobody was havin' sex, everything seemed pretty simple. Level was very much the opposite. Fifth grade at that. Everybody was pretty nice though. All just kids but those damned circumstances put us a world apart. Rich vs. Poor. White vs. Minority. Them vs. Us. Haves vs. Have nots. Successful vs. Failures. Not that anybody was actually a failure but there were a lot more troubled kids in Level that needed someone to understand 'em. Someone that wouldn't just give up on 'em. Those AP kids got a lot of chances in life. Lot more than what the Level kids did. Least that's how I saw it.
By the time I'd reached highschool, I'd grown apathetic to education. I didn't care about C's or D's. All I had to do was pass. I slpet through my classes. Considered myself dumb. Already bottlin' up every disaappointment and failure inside of me. Never lettin' 'em go, just hangin' on to 'em. I'd toughened my psyche up so much by then nuthin' could hurt me. I didn't talk. I didn't like anything. I made a few jokes with friends. I did just enough to pass my classes. I stayed home on weekends and weeknights. I had already started writing. Kinda drowned myself in that. On occassion, I'd go out with the only friend I really had at the time. Just one guy. He had his friends but I never felt like they were mine. I was just glad to be interactin' with anybody.
I had a job. I was insanely shy the first few weeks I was there. I know the first couple of times I worked I didn't say anything to anyone at all. I remember one instance where I was tryin' to tell someone that sumthin' needed to be straightened. All I did was point. When they didn't understand, I straightened it myself.
It was here I met my first girlfriend. Wasn't that I didn't want a girlfriend before that. I wanted one. They never wanted me though. Through out my life I can't tell you how many times I'd been shot down. What I can tell you is that after a while it starts to take a toll. You figure there's sumthin' wrong with the way you look, or act, or with the way you asked. Sometimes it's one of those sometimes it's not. A person'll drive themselves crazy wonderin' about things like that. All the chances you missed, all the chances you took and failed on, all the things that make life unfair. Can't afford to spend too much time on it. Life's movin' on with or without you. Might as well keep up.
She was a short, dark haired girl. She was eighteen. I was sixteen. I could never have worked up the nerve to ask her out. She practically threw herself at me 'til I got this vague idea that she might be possibly, be kinda, somewhat, interested in me. We went to a movie. I wasn't even sure it was a date at the time. It was. My first.
My second date (ever) was very different. Same girl. Same me. Same movie theater. Different ending. not quite a Happy Ending but similar if you get me. I suppose that kinda messed with my pacing. After that I got the idea that maybe sex is like on T.V. and in the movies. You meet someone fall in love and have sex and sex is the same as love 'cause no one has sex with anyone they don't love and it's never a mistake.
For those of you that don't know, it ain't that way. Lust can happen in a day. A one night stand. A moment of weakness for a physical want. I believe what a friend told me once. When you sleep with someone, you give 'em a lil bit of yourself. It's supposed to be sumthin' special with someone special. I don't think many people wait for marriage anymore but that doesn't mean sex is just sex. It's always sex with you and if you ain't special then neither is the sex. But if you are special (which of course you are, no proof needed, it's just a given that you're special to someone if not yourself) then the sex should be special.
That relationship fizzled after three months. It became just sex to me. She was a good person. It shouldn't have been like that. But that's what happened.
The next girl was someone I've always considered my highschool sweet heart. I dunno if people really have those anymore. They should. She was beautiful. An army brat, strong, independent, and one hell of a singin' voice. Our relationship was pretty good. I cared about her very much. I got the chance to bring her home one night. I knew how my parents would feel about her before they ever met her. So, before she came that particular New Year's Eve I told my parents the truth. "I've made it no secret how I felt about them. Go talk to your mother." Dad said. Then he walked in ahead of me and told my mom I had sumthin' to tell her. So I did. "What are you crazy?" My mom asked.
Shouldn't have mattered to 'em but it did. What the hell does skin color got to do with anything? Mom always said I should marry a nice Mexican girl, that way I'd have more in common with her (like speakin' spanish terribly?). I was crazy about this girl so I lied to my parents about goin' to see her. I had to get my hair cut like every week 'cause that was one of the things I was often out doin' for 3-4 hours at a time.
My best friend never understood why I told my parents the truth. We had it set up that I would lie to 'em and tell 'em she was a friend of his girl's. I couldn't do that. It would've worked. They wouldn't be rude to her. We could've spent that New Year's Eve together. But I don't duck what I've done. I knew then that I'd made my choice and I was gonna stand by her. I did. I was with her for six amazing months. When my parents threatened to throw me outta the house I stood by her. When the people in our classes stared at us we stood by each other. Eventually, bein' the army brat she was, she had to move. That was pretty well the end of that.
I was kinda crushed by that. I didn't date anybody for a long while. Even had a nightmare where she was bein' forcibly taken away from me by my parents. I woke up in the middle of the night and cried at the thought of her bein' taken away. Cried even harder when I realized she was already gone.
This ain't finished but I feel like that's enough for one reading. We'll call this part one.
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