Sophomore year

Sophomore year was a decent year. I lost my virginity that year. Ran away from home for the first time, had my first cigarette that very night (don't smoke, it's bad for you). Much like many of the fights I had with my mother and stepfather, it was over something stupid. Vacuuming the couch incorrectly. Oh yeah. That was a common argument. I remember that being the first time I told my mother to choose between me or her husband. She didn't, so I left with nothing but the clothes on my back. I wandered around my hometown until I found a classmate from middle school I kept acquaintance with. I smoked and slept on her friends couch, who was a few grades above me. He became a regular contact to get my smokes from. After an intimidating phone conversation with my mother, I gave up and told her where I was. She brought along a town cop and brought me home. Of course instead of solving the problem, I was grounded instead. Grounding was my mothers knee jerk reaction to me acting out. It was never much the punishment she wanted it to be, seeing as how I was a teenager who spent most of my time in my bedroom anyway. I was an avid reader and those 'punishments' just gave me a chance to do school work and blow through stacks of literature. As sophomore year progressed I kept my grades around B's (except for math, I was and am rubbish at math) and was still actively involved in GSA. That was the last year my beloved English teacher was around. Besides some poetry slams the Matthew Shepard vigil and the annual GSA dance (I was in the local paper for both the vigil and the dance) put on by the county(I think), we didn't do much that year. Most meetings were spent in total chaos. Looking back I wish I had known how to make a bigger impact on my school, but the GSA still struggles to make headway with students and faculty so I guess it wasn't much up to me.
I made friends with a girl in my math class that I'm still friends with today. This friendship broadened my group of friends into the clique I spent the rest of my high school career with. I was still with my first girlfriend up until June. Around the time of the break up was when I realized I hated being in the body I had. I had no idea what that meant, I was pretty ashamed of it for a long time. I had never heard of such a thing and was seriously convinced I was some kind of freak. I admitted to my first girlfriend that I had fallen out of love with her (you don't realize you have no fucking clue what love is until it smacks you upside the head and fucks with you around age 20) and that I couldn't be with someone who was gay when all I wanted was to be a man. It took almost another year before I could admit that to my friends. By the end of sophomore year I had made great strides in my social life. The final day of classes I went to a friends house with our little group and had a blast. We fooled around on her trampoline, walked around the town goofing off at the park and visiting the candy/party shop that was there on Main St. It was the first taste I really got of having true friends and it was everything I wanted it to be. Sadly, over the summer I was back to feeling locked down and very rarely got the chance to do that kind of stuff with them. But thankfully it didn't hurt my friendships and when I did get the chance it was such a relief.
Before those bitter sweet times, I had my most memorable run in with hate and bullying. It was spring, possibly April or May. My girlfriend had taken the bus from Massachusetts to visit me for a long weekend. We had been hanging out with a few people at the local PeeWee football field; except for some kids around my age playing a game of baseball at the nearby diamonds we were alone on the field and too far off to be a bother to them. I checked my watch and noticed it was about the time to be getting home for dinner. So my girlfriend and I say our goodbyes and head across the field and past the diamonds to take the shortcut home. As we walk past the baseball players, holding hands and lost in our own world we hear "Fucking dykes!" I was used to the occasional torment but most of it stayed behind my back. And even then, none of it was this direct and so unprovoked. I was caught with my guard down and I didn't like it. I stopped in my tracks, dropped my girlfriends hand and went to charge down the jackass who was all up in my biz. My girlfriend grabbed my shirt before I could get any distance, yanked me back and threw me in front of her, pushing me towards home. The exact wording is hazy due to my fuming anger at the time, years of gap and more bowls of pot than I care to admit to my audience but it was something along the lines of "Why don't you be normal and fuck a guy" and "Which of you has the dick in the relationship?" I was literally trembling with anger and my girlfriend blew them off verbally and continued pushing me towards home. I was so furious! Never again have I faced such open hatred. The kids were ones who went to my high school. I had been in class with one of them since 1st grade, played with him when we were younger because him mom and my biological father were friends. One of the others was the son of a previous teacher I had the year before. I never caught crap from them again, at least not to my face. But even just thinking back on it makes my blood boil.  


Anyway, depending on how long this sleeplessness lasts, I may put up part one of Junior Year sometime later this afternoon, if not expect it within a week. My Facebook fans can bug me for updates. I do apologize for not updating in over 6 months, I've had a lot of shit going on. Which we'll eventually come to. Names may start being introduced (changed for others benefit of course), just to make things easier to follow. If the posts seem a little hard to follow let me know, it's a little hard when you remember bits and pieces and have no way of ordering it. You guys know you can always message me or leave comments. And as usual, spread this around the internet like the Republican GOP candidates spread bullshit. Peace.