School: Best Years of Our Lives.
Submitted by Altima on April 24 2001 19:37:23
|
Yesterday someone write "fucking GAY" on the back of my shirt collar. I couldn't get it out, nor could I hide it. I walked around the rest of the day with this filthy label literally written on my back. The thing that I am bothering myself about was that I knew exactly who did it, a semi-friend of mine. I didn't feel hurt, I am already cynical enough that I just feel it's typical. I just laught it off and ignore it. I wanted to punch him right in the face. I didn't though. I don't know if I ever will attack anyone. Sometimes my thoughts and desires convince me that I'm capable... but I just... I just know I can't. My one saving grace is that I am talented at mouthing off to people, applying the correct obcenities to really make anyone sorry they pissed me off, though I rarely give anyone verbal beatings. Around the time I first posted here, perhaps a year ago... I don't know exactly, I was dealing with an emotion that was running amazingly strong in me at the time, rage. I never acted on it, though there were many times I feared I was going to explode. Now I just feel like I'm on tranquilizers or something, because now I just... well I don't know what I feel right now, I just don't feel rage. When I got home yesterday, my mother saw the writing on my shirt collar and got really mad that anyone would write it. I didn't realise how large it was written until I had taken the shirt off. She asked me a lot of questions and I told her who did it. He happened to be someone I told my mother I was pretty friendly with, which I was at the time. Eventually he just got rude. It was like all of a sudden he didn't like anything I had to say. Sometimes if I was talking to someone else, he would interject with a "shut up," or give me the ol' Middle Finger™ from accross the room. Little things, but over time they really got me mad. Every time he did something like that my brain would present me with an image of me drilling my fist into his sneering face. Then I would return to reality and usually ignore him. My mother went to the "Deputy Vice Principal." Apparently she was shocked (the vice principal, it was a woman) which, when I later heard about it, I found very slightly amusing, since I had seen far worse things done around the school, not necessarily written on people, but certainly on walls. I reluctantly admit that I participated in a lot of in-class graffiti, mainly to (yes, it's shamefull) impress the other people. I was good at it because I could write the most devastatingly scathing puns out of anyone, utilising the poetic tool of alliteration most of the time, like "Marcus Massages Manrod" sometimes just dirty puns like "Marcus is a virtuoso of the skin flute," or the downright filthy, which I will not post here. Well I had never written or said anything bad about this person, and what he did seemed very out of character. Anyway, he had been discreetly called in during the day and seemed remarkable placid the rest of the day. I was brought into her office at the end of today's school day and, well, we talked. "Oh, are you friendly with him?" "Was this out of character?" After that issue was discussed, she asked me how happy I was. What she didn't know was that I have concrete plans to leave the school for another one once the year is over. "Out of a scale of one to ten, with ten being absulutley elated, which no one is, how happy are you here?" I was tempted to give a number in the decimals, or maybe negative numbers. Perhaps Pi would have been amusing. "Ummm... around five I guess..." was my hesistant reply. "Well what are some of the posatives and negatives around here?" "Well, posatives..." I scoured my brain for something, anything. Remember the day had just ended, I was tired. "Well... the building's nice..." "...Gooood..." She seemed to stretch the word as far as possible without sounding rediculous. "And there are some people who I like." I finished the sentance in a way that meant there was nothing more to say. "Teachers?" "Students." "Okay, what about negatives?" I didn't want to torment this woman with everything my ugly mind coughed up, so I just gave some general answers. "Well there's some people I'm not too thrilled about," Massive understatement. "And I don't know anyone around here outside the school." "Okay, well-" "Oh, one more thing, I still get a lot of anti-American comments." Racism is a wonderfull thing, it is an amazing way to completely drive all confidance out of a person. It says "You are different. You are the odd man out. You are one, we are many. Since we are many, that makes us good. Since you are few, you are bad." I deal with comments like "F*cking American" "Get out of our country" and randomly, on the occasion that I might volenteer an answer in class, someone usually shouts "Typical American," assuming what I say is at all different from when the Collective thinks. Sometimes I play out possible actions in my head while daydreaming. I have many times vividly imagined responding to an anti-American comment by tearing down every aspect of Ireland (verbally) and at the end, calling him a racist bastard. If in the daydream the recipiant is still beligerant, he recieves a swift punch in the face. Someday I think they might push me one step too far, which is probably what they want. I have done my best to ignore them after 2 and a half years, but every time someone says something like that I'm reminded of how much it hurts to hear it. It's one of the few things that bother me on an emotional level now. It's something I can't stand... Moving on... Next year I'm going to a different school. Much smaller, only 200 people instead of the 1000+ in my current school. Apparently it's much friendlier too. It also seems to be more... well, it seems more, well, it's high class in a way almost opposite to the very yuppie-style "high class" of my current school. I'm struggling for the word, stuck up maybe? Elitist? I don't know, but I think it might suit me better. Ahh well. This rant was not really moving to a particular point, my on-the-spot rants rarely do. I just needed to... vent Iguess. |
Follow ups: