Shall I digress from my usual bittersweet indignation. Shall I simply take the time to remember the things that got me where I am today. Shall I go back and appreciate everything that went wrong making me nothing but stronger - not a chance!
I have a tattoo across my neck that says "I would not change a single moment". The tattoo is 100% the truth - I would not change anything about my life because I love where I am today. That does not mean, however, that I have to wax nostalgic over the roadmap of scars I see in the mirror every morning. Scars that make me who I am but whose story's remain locked away in my head (where they belong). Stories that are only to be told late at night in cheap motels to strangers who I have no intention of ever calling again.
Once upon a time there was a very awkward little boy with a gap in his teeth and the palest of pale skin. In fact this boy's skin was so white that he was called a ghost by the other kids at school. Boys and Girls alike would push him down in the sandbox and when he would try to hit them back they would run away faster then he could run on his skinny spindly legs.
There is no need to go into too much detail about this little boy's time in grade school, or middle school or high school because it would be a waste of time - his time in those places was not very good.
The boy lived in a small home with his father but the boy did not like the things that his father liked and because of this his father did not have many kind things to say to the boy. There is no need to go into too much detail about this little boy's time at home because it would be a waste of time - his time at home was not very good.
The boy had a job when he was in high school and at his job he had a boss. His boss said very nice things to the boy but he said them in a way that made the boy feel funny. When it was time to lock the store at night the boy's boss would have the boy stay late. There is no need to go into too much detail about this little boy's time at his job because it would be a waste of time - his time after work was not very good.
When the boy was eighteen years old and he held high school diploma tightly in his hands he bought a ticket on an airplane and he left the town where he grew up and all of the kids he had grown up with, he left his father and he left his job and he left his boss.
The boy went to college and while he was there he found other boys who he had fun with. Day by day the boy became a man and as time passed he found a group of men who thought the boy, who was now a man, was a very wonderful person. He found a job where he was praised for his skill and in time he found a very special man who told him that he was perfect and that he loved him very much.
At night our boy, who was now a man, would crawl into bed very happy. He would look over at the figure lying next to him and the sweetest rush of pleasure would wash across his soul. As he drifted off to sleep he would say a silent prayer that in the morning when he woke up that the next day of his life would be as just as good as the day he was saying goodbye to as he slept.
By the time the next night rolled around and the boy, who was now a man, was crawling into bed again his wish had always come true. From that time on every day he lived was just a little better then the day before had been.
And the boy, who was now a man, lived happily ever after.
About five years ago I got a phone call from the area code where I grew up. I did not recognize the voice on the other end of the line and so she told me who she was. It was a girl whom I had gone to school with, a girl who had never missed the opportunity to make me feel like shit.
She babbled at me over the phone line for a while and then she finally cut to the chase. She wanted me to know that she was very sorry for everything she had done to me when we were younger - she hoped that I could find it in my heart to forgive her because she was now a mother and she understood that the way she had acted all those years ago was wrong.
I thought about everything she was saying and I looked around my kitchen at all my things and thought about how nice my life had turned out.
I smiled and I told her to go and fuck herself. I told her that I really didn't care what kind of twelve step program she had tripped over and fell in but that I did not for one, single, solitary moment forgive her for the torture she had put me through in school. Then I hung up the phone and called my own mother and kindly asked her not to ever give out my phone number to ANYONE from high school ever again.
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