Okay, I know some of you people want to read the continuation to (one of) my life stories but I have to add this in before it goes on. Thank you to all of the people that support me and encourage me to write. It makes me think that when I have my debut album someday, I'll have lots of fans that will buy it (but then, for the beginning of my singing career, I'll have to keep my identity as secret as possible so, when it's out, I know I will be successful, but anyway, I'll have to get the Oasis person to remove my columns in here). Of course, I'll eventually come out to the public like Sir (he was knighted last month) Elton John and Ellen (I'm not attempting to try to spell the last name).
So once again, thank you for your support and messages. Remember, I always reply to any e-mail, no matter how long it takes (to those that did, you know what I mean). Now I feel like I'm a hypocrite too because I've been saying some stuff about another Oasis writer about their writing. I tell the truth in my writing (at least from my point of view) and I read last month's column and it seems so unrealistic but I promise you it's true. Anyway, I hope I didn't say anything offensive. I can easily take the other side of the argument as easily as this side (my teacher said that a good debater can switch sides easily and listens well). Anyway, on with the story...
Before I go to the hospital, I'll add that the girl I was with whom I told I was going to commit suicide, I couldn't believe (and I still can't today) that she had actual tears coming out of her eyes. She was crying because of me, she actually cared for me. I never got mad at here for telling on me because it let me know that people actually cared about me. She wasn't my friend, she was just a classmate to me (actually, the school year before, when I was trying to deny I was gay, I danced with her and we were in a relationship for three days. I danced with her at the school dance, we held hands, and blah blah blah. She broke up because her mom (who is a supply teacher) said that she couldn't have a relationship until she graduated from U or something.) Anyway, at that time, I thought it was me that was the problem. She wasn't pretty (at least that's what the guys say) and probably the only thing that attracted me to her was her mental abilities, finally I found someone that thinks like me (I thought), and she was nice. I probably didn't like her as in the love kind of like. It was probably the friend kind of like. Now, she's my only friend (I think). I'll explain that later.
I left off at the hospital right? Well, I was in there for about two hours and I decided I've had enough of the sh*t that this guy was saying to me and I was sick of it. I didn't want to be in a hospital everyday so I just made up some stupid excuse that I didn't mean it and I promised not to commit suicide. I got to leave an hour later and I was free.
For the next few days after that, my mom picked me up from school and kept saying that being gay is wrong and stuff I said about having a perfect family with kids and that it'll never happen. She kept asking me who I was "gay" with and I kept telling her with nobody. Because she thought one of my friends made me "gay" or heterosexuality challenged (I got it off somewhere), I wasn't allowed to answer the phone and my mom made sure that the phone call was from a girl and then gave it to me. No one was allowed to come over either. That scared everyone off. Then it faded away and my mom thinks I'm straight again. She hasn't said anything since. It's like it never happened.
Anyway, in the meantime, I was searching for more answers, more support, and I wanted to win the Mr. P "case". So I kept fighting and it wasn't until November that I got to publish my article in my own paper. After that was forever an irreversible choice for me. On one side I was swamped with discrimination, and one the other side (which was a very small percentage, and all female support) were the few that supported me. It was also the first time I sold over 100 copies of the paper and the first and only time I got "reader mail" for my paper.
Now before I said that I have no friends anymore and that's my new nickname (with the many other ones that are included each day). Everytime I enter the classroom now, it's unbearable. I have to wait until the school bell rings before I can go in. And even if I don't go in, I can see them making symbols (something like Clueless with the loser sign except it's an F and they say faggot as they do it).
What made me a backstabber? Well, it started when "Andrew" started to use me as a cheating and stealing resource. I thought he was my friend. He got cheat sheets (little 2' by 1' sheets with answers on it) from me (I got them from a math class I go to since they use the same books and I can check my answers which I skillfully acquire). Then, because we both don't take notes (and I still don't, I think it's useless), he and someone else decided to steal a binder with all the notes in it. They decided on some persons binder because they hated him and he always sucked up. Anyway, they let me in on the deal and the other person did the distraction, Andrew did the stealing, and I (stupid enough to do it) took it home. Someone saw me have it while Andrew passed it to me and Andrew and I were both put under question. He told me to keep denying it and I did. The next day, Mr. P said that nothing would happen if it was returned the next day. I listened to Andrew. He said that they're lying.
They got what they wanted and after the mid-terms, I felt I was not being fair to the person who had their binder stolen. At that time, Andrew and his friends were starting to harass me more and more each day. I told him to stop and he wouldn't. So, I had this plan (which didn't work). I first became friends with him (or that's what I thought) and it worked. Then I told him about the binder. Then, our plan was to have Andrew fail the next test. So, it appeared as every other day to Andrew. I gave him the (fake) answers. He failed and acted up and said sorry to me. The next day he continued, with jokes about sticking every possible object in the class up my ass. Then I got really pissed off I returned the binder to Mikey. Then he told his mom. His mom didn't want me to get in trouble and he didn't either since he said "you're brave enough to return it" and "sorry for calling you fag". So he told on Andrew. This is when the plan failed. "Mikey's" (the victim) mom worked until very late in the day and she was supposed to have called the school to tell Mr. P that I would not get in trouble. I did what Mikey told me and I admitted to it. Andrew, who talks himself out of everything, blames it on me. Enough of this (since it doesn't have anything to do with the topic of being gay). It turns out we both got a five day suspension (the maximum punishment from being expelled).
After that (the backstabber part hasn't come yet), about a month later, I thought he'd grown up, but he didn't. Now he's insulting me on what I do and imitating me and throwing objects at me. Tamara told me to ignore them. So, to kill the time, and the pain, I wrote in my social textbook and drew pictures on the existing pictures. Tamara wrote stuff about an obese girl in the next class who she hated and wrote her name in it. Tamara did it to both our books, anyway, we share the book with the other class and the obese girl shared my book with me and the obese girls friend shared the book with Tamara. They told on us and I was back in that dark office where I lost many of my "friends". Little did I know I was going to lose the most important one to me. I said everything and I added that it was all her idea (bad idea). We just had to pay for the book and had a phone call home, but she got mad and left me all alone. That's how I got the nickname.
Just because of that, now she actually shows her true feelings about gays to me. I thought she supported me (she also got answers from me too) but maybe not. Now, I'm just waiting until June so I can leave this place to go to my high school (which hopefully will not have either Andrew or Tamara and their friends in it). I can't go whine to the teacher now since what I did to them and they're both really good at talking things out with the teachers and making up excuses.
Any ideas of what I should do now? Harassment is even worse now since now I have no "friends" in my class to support me (except for "Jenelle" who is the person who cried for me and is "uncool").
I know that this bored someone out of it, unlike last month. Anyway, have a good Spring Break and keep the smile (even though it may be hard sometimes)!
PS: Read my poem called Choice. I don't know if I've put it in before but it doesn't hurt to do it twice. I once thought about it but I want to tell you it's very scary to think about it after you read the poem. I hope that after you read it, it'll have such a big impact to your lives that you'll never ever think about it.
Freedom, Choice, and Expression.
Knowing and not knowing.
The stress on the brain;
Which way is right?
His hand holds to key and
Unlocks the drawer.
He takes the object inside.
His hand opens it and
The cartridge is slipped in.
He closes the gate shut.
The brain starts swelling.
He picks up the object.
It lifts from the surface.
His body heat rises.
The thoughts of his head;
Should he continue?
Standing with his choice,
The answer is yes.
Coming further from the surface;
And moving closer toward the anger.
His hand starts to shake,
He's nervous and starts sweating.
The pounding of his heart,
Hearing screaming in the distance
With beating on the door.
The object presses against his head,
The thumb moves down;
Pulling the lever,
A click is quietly heard
Initializing the object.
slowly pulling back.
Without a warning -
One ear loses hearing.
He can feel the small pod
Begin to penetrate his head.
The ripping of the skin,
The cracking of the skull,
Hearing voices of no.
The anger stops
He wants to reconsider.
But it's too late.
The brain explodes with pressure;
And blood pours
Through the cracks of the skull.
Dropping the object,
Losing balance and falling,
Feeling is lost.
Slamming to the ground
Not being able to move.
His life before his eyes.
Deafness to the other ear,
Lying in a pool of blood.
Freedom, choice and expression all gone
December 5, 1996