This is a mostly true story; It includes certain autobiographical details and a few fabricated ones for good measure. Names, dates and places have been changed to preserve my anonymity and the privacy of all parties involved. If you haven't figured out by now, I also write under a pseudonym.
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At the end of the last chapter, I made mention of going to a Catholic school and ending up back in the town district. I was going to leave it be but I feel like I should elaborate on exactly how that all came to be, since I am laying it all out there.
At Saint Mary's, I was miserable. I couldn't be myself there.
Yes, there was the gay aspect. After Louis, I really just wanted someone to love; Someone to hold me, tell me it would all be okay, to give my love to and to love me in return. Obviously, in a Catholic school, that wasn't going to happen with another boy.
The other issue was the further repression of my individuality with uniforms and the formal decorum. It was like none of us mattered; we were all carbon copy duplicates and 'just another number' -To staff and student alike, we were indifferent to one another, simply existing within the confines of the same prison and trying not to say or do anything that would warrant extra contact with each other: Being in the same room was awkward enough but having to actually talk to someone was a nightmare come to life. And you thought THIS generation was unpersonable? For a school promoting the teachings of Christ, there wasn't very much love for thy neighbor and it resulted in a community of recluses and social awkwardness.
I do want to be clear on the fact that I am a devout Christian and the faith teachings had nothing to do with my misery, rather the aforementioned problems in the school in conjunction with the human-invented 'traditions' (garbage) that was injected into the curriculum.
I already was depressed and the school situation made it worse. My parents knew I had no friends, no love interest, my grades were slipping and I was chronically forlorn. The highlight of my day was going to bed, just I could cuddle with my dog Sam. I was creeping into a dark place but they had no clue how far it went.
I vividly remember three occasions where I stood at my kitchen counter with a knife laying there, seeing my reflection on the blade. Between the past-bullying, my desperate unfulfilled need of a boyfriend, St. Mary's and what I would assume were my hormones, I was the lowest I had ever been and I wanted to escape. So, I stood there, seriously considering what would happen if I chose to end my life. I wasn't looking for attention, I wasn't crying out for help, I wasn't confused; At 13 years old, I honestly and truly wanted to end my pain: Just kill myself so I could find happiness elsewhere beyond 'here'.
Looking back, the idea that a steak knife would slit my wrists for me was obviously not practical but it displays my frame of mind. To be honest, I'm not even sure what made me reconsider and put the knives back into their drawer. I am not proud to admit that I considered suicide but I am happy to report that no such attempts were made.
I looked, using my computer, trying to find others like me. I knew of the dangers of the novel 'internet' so I ended up looking for stories instead of 'friends'. I found mostly fuck stories and that provided no satisfaction.
I ended up getting into the 'furry craze' and found several websites that had the love stories I craved- It wasn't the furry stuff but rather the vast amount of stories to sift through and find what I needed; Different as the content is, the authors are creative and insightful (They kinda have to be). Yiff Star and Jay Naylor became favorites.
Believe it or not, it was that which helped me through. It provided a kind of pseudo-companionship, especially when the bizarre stories were told in the first person, as though I were there.
The dynamic of animals was of a particular interest. I'm not into beastiality or furries but I did feel like the equivalent of a dog: Something that was the purest form of 'good' but could be so easily mistreated and overlooked- Even generally looked down upon. I still have that sentiment, today, of being a lowly dog.
My parents 'saw the warning signs' (Hello? Remember I already had the knife in front of me? A bit late on the signs, no?). They asked me if I wanted to search out a non-Catholic private school for high school. I said I wanted to try the town district again. They were incredulous but agreed that something had to change. They called the district and, again, two weeks before school started, I was undergoing placement testing. They recommended Advanced classes in Sophomore classes. I declined and took Advanced classes in the proper Freshman year: Why would I want to be jipped a year out of the 'happiest years of my life'?
I went back.
"DJ, you're back?!" Julia yelled.
It was second period gym orientation. The entire set of bleachers turned and looked directly at me; Every single person knew exactly who I was.
A few people (re)introduced themselves to me. Michael, Peter and Darren took me under their wing. They were cool guys and would prove to be solid hangs for PE.
Also in that classes was Ralph, the bully who I tried to stab for pulling my hair. He looked like a deer in headlights when he saw me. I glared at him. His eyes sank to the floor and he looked pitiful.
We went about our class and, at the end, he pulled me into the Head Coach's office. The Head Coach gave us the room.
"What the fuck do you want, Ralph?" I sneered.
"I wanted to apologize..." He began.
"How thoughtful." I cut him off.
"Please. I know what you must think of me but please let me say this." He paused, asking my permission to continue. I sighed and nodded. He continued, "Back in middle school, i knew I was being a dick to you - That we all were- but I didn't realize that we -that I- made you feel THAT bad. After you left, everybody told us what assholes we were to you. It was like my eyes were forced open and it became a turning point for me. I changed." I snickered at him. How could someone be so outright evil and 'change'? He went on, "So I distanced myself from Carlos, Craig and Alvin. I haven't really talked to them since then and I reformed myself. I know must hate me and you are right to. I just wanted to apologize and ask for your forgiveness." He stuck his hand out for me to shake. I blinked at him; I couldn't believe what I was hearing and I didn't extend my hand. "Please. Give me a second chance, DJ. I know I don't deserve it but... Please?" My humility kicked in and I realized that he was being sincere. I shook his hand. We both sighed. It was a pure moment. We exitted the office, not as enemies but as... well... with a blank slate.
After gym came lunch (We only had four periods to a day in high school. Depending on the class, you may have lunch first string after second period or second string after third period).
I walked into the lunch room and looked for a place to sit. I didn't know it then but Joe had moved away while I was gone. Brian was still around but he was in the other string so I was completely alone in the multitude.
I looked around and, to my amazement, I saw James. Yes, his hair was cut into a shorter style and he was scrawnier than me but it was him. I took him in: His porcelain face had gained some blemishes, his fashion sense had deteriorated into Nike jock stuff, his ears had giant CZ earings in them; He looked quite different than the boy I knew in middle school.
Someone at his table caught me staring and said something to him. He looked directly at me. I smiled but his expression remained the same. I walked over.
"Hello, James!! How are you?"
He looked at his friends and then back to me. "Uh, great-" He said with a smirk. He had the painfully obvious look of 'why is this person talking to me?'
"Oh... Well, that's great!!" I said, standing there with my tray. I realized that he wasn't going to ask me to sit down. "Well, I'll catch ya later, then." I smiled.
"Yeah. Sure, man." He said hollowly and turned back to his table. That was my dismissal.
Three hours into my Freshman year and I learned one of life's most painful lessons: People change. Sometimes for the better and sometimes not so.
I walked around the lunchroom. There was a smaller boy sitting all by himself. I had no clue who he was and, in truth, he looked like he belonged in 7th grade.
"Can I sit here?" I half-asked, half-begged.
He looked up at me and his face had a welcoming expression. "Sure. Grab a seat."
"I'm DJ." I said, extending a hand.
"Daniel." He smiled, shaking my hand.
We sat down and chatted for a while. He was a pretty nice guy. He seemed pretty on-the-ball. I suspected he was another kind soul who was misunderstood; Also probably bullied because of his tiny stature and immature voice. He was still just a little boy.
"Hey, Daniel!! What's up, faggot?!" Some douche called from behind him. I looked up and caught sight of them: It was a bro-squad of idiots, sitting at a table, all staring at Daniel to watch his response.
The my shock, Daniel turned around and cried out in his little kid's voice, "Hey, fuck you, you fucking CUNT!!"
The table of boys were just as shocked. That shut them up.
"You're pretty cool. I like you." I laughed.
Daniel smiled.
To jump ahead, I never had much more contact with Ralph, Daniel or James beyond this. The occasional class projects or whatever but that was it.
Ralph really had changed. He went from failing grades in middle school to having all AP/Honors classes in high school. He became one of the most outstanding people in the entire school. Eventually, he graduated as one of the top 10 people in our 200-plus person class. He went on to get a full-ride to a military college and served our country as an officer in the Marines, during the operations in Fallujah, Iraq. He is a good man.
Daniel, though not many people knew it, was bullied indirectly as a social outcast throughout high school. He never said a word to anyone and kept it all bottled up, refusing to buckle.
Even underclassmen eventually picked on in him and another good person wound up a victim of their enviornment as he slowly became tweaked in his head- He became a very peculiar individual in a very weird way and that only fueled the tormenting fires.
He had been suicidal and had a few other problems. He was held back our Junior year and remained in school the year after I graduated. He endured even more torment for 'being stupid' -All by no one in particular, simply every kid in the school being an asshole to him.
But Daniel managed to rise above it. He dug himself out of the rut and had plans for after school that included the US Navy. One Saturday morning, during his Senior year, he had a job interview but he failed to get up. His sister went to wake him but she found he had passed away in the middle of the night.
People, of course, speculated that he had committed suicide. Apparently, even in death, they just couldn't let him be. For the record, he had an aneurysm that was most-likely caused from stress -such as being bullied continuously for years on end. It burst in the night and that was what killed him.
It was disgusting: Like they all intentionally subjected him to such incredible misery and held his head under water and then laughed at him while he died slowly, drowning and fighting for air.
Profound sadness? Disgust? I just don't have a sufficient word or phrase in my vocabulary to describe it. They killed him... And then made a mockery of it. They killed him.
As for James, he became a jock. He was a LAX-bro. He also became one of those ghetto whiteboy types who listened to hip-hop and thought he was from 'da hood'- I'm not hating, just saying that he turned into something he wasn't.
James went from being an intellectual to being a pothead- Not the kind who liked pot but the kind who let it kill their brain. He did just enough so as not to be kicked out of school. He later graduated and went to community college for a Gen. Ed., where he eventually dropped out. I never knew anything more.
I felt like Holden Caulfield, only I had failed to catch James. James had been another beautiful person- a wonderful soul. Maybe, if I had the courage to keep in touch with him after middle school, maybe I could've steered him back into the light; Maybe it wouldn't have mattered, anyway.
All-in-all, it was a melancholy day that started my Freshman year. I made peace with a bully, found out James wasn't quite the boy I remembered and (at the time, I believed) I had a friend in Daniel.