I lived through stuff and survived some stuff. Well survived physically, not so sure about my mental state. I am what I am. Take what you can of the stories of how I become. Learn from my mistakes, but share my joys as well.
Ah middle school… It all seems so nostalgic and funny now, really. Playing hopscotch, collecting stickers, and drawing dicks. On every surface in our range. See, people often like to forget that particular detail about childhood, because it doesn’t seem very sweet or innocent. But I could not imagine middle school without the image of my class trying to hold in laughter for dear life. Almost suffocating and hiding behind books as the teacher stares in exasperated shock at the penis drawing on the blackboard. And that’s what I loved about middle school — the lessons. Go on, call me a nerd, I dare you. I was never a teacher’s pet or was THAT kid that reminded about homework, but I was that kid that thrived off of the closeness and unity of class shenanigans. It did not matter if you were a ginger, fat, weirdo, nerd, a cool kid, or a prep. The shenanigans was a thing the whole class was in on.
While alcohol does not erase the problems that I have, it does invoke a fire to provide temporary warmth. I'm not talking about the physical warmth, but the warmth of numbness. The feeling of no longer feeling anything at all. The single thought that clouds all other thoughts. The warm escape from the screaming silence and emptiness inside you. In such sense you rather harm the body over your mind. You starve for free booze to get numb. To get so numb that that pop song you hate is pouring out your mouth. So numb where the person you hate is your closest friend. Because what you really hate is you. And if the mind is vacant and numb there is nothing to hate and no one to be hating. The induced disconnection is more comforting than the familiar disassociation. The momentary circle of drinking buddies is more important than the family you grew up to know as mere acquaintances. And the warmth keeps reminding you of the camping trip you took as a kid.
I have an established dislike for school periods. But now I want to emphasise my hate for p e r i o d s. A scary word, I can’t even type it properly. The teachers fear it, the parents shush it, the boys run from it. Top secret operation that must be contained, else the world will die from disgust. But… It’s not! I know, shocking! Confusion! Sirens in the distance! Suburban moms, cover your kids' eyes and ears!
The first embrace happened in my childhood. A time of being carefree and living in imagination. Power of one’s imagination is unlimited. We were but kids with sticks and grass stained clothes, but in our eyes, we were bad ass heroes. Engineers that created robots from scrap, cardboard boxes and flashlights. Fighters that had been bandaged up from head to toe. The more unbelievable your character, the more awestruck everyone else in the yard was.
There are two things in life that require bare naked truth and reciprocity between two people: sex and trust. These two things often coincide. One syllable words that are upheld as be all end all.