My time in Junior High has gaps. I’m not sure if it’s because I don’t want to remember or if I can’t. It is possible it’s both. I wasn’t the tallest in my class but close to it. I did have the biggest breasts and was the 2nd or 3rd largest concerning weight.
I met my soon to be bestfriend W in the 6th grade but we never had classes together. It wasn’t that I was unintelligent. I didn’t have patience to study anything I wasn’t personally interested in. W did what they told her. She scored higher on tests and was placed in classes for students that were headed in a “College” direction. I wasn’t. They didn’t put me in a class where students ate paste either. By the time I had arrived at 6th grade I had already read and understood books like Lord of The Flies, The Call of The Wild and various Edgar Allen Poe tales. My brother left his books for High School around the house and I read them if I was bored.
They didn’t know what to do with me. I scored off the charts for reading and comprehension but not so well in Geography, Math, or History. Go figure.
If anyone was to give me a map of the United States but left it blank and I had to fill in where all the states were, I promise you it would be a disaster.
I’m not very good with directions either. I have to turn down the radio to see where I’m going. It’s sad.
Young Adults are cruel little animals. I’m not sure if it’s the pre-pubescent hormones, home situations, social class, clicks, or if even the teachers should be held accountable. I do know that what was said and done to me and countless others should never have been allowed to go on for so long. The human mind can only take so much before breaking or shutting down completely.
Bus rides were particularly unpleasant. There was a boy with orange/red hair on our bus. He threw rocks at my sister and I. My brother was good for a few things. Scaring the shit out of people was one of them. My sister never bonded with my brother. Right from the start they butted heads. Rocks were being thrown in her direction but the hateful words were meant for me. I told my brother and he came out to the bus stop the next morning. Problem solved. Of course my sister wasn’t happy. She didn’t want to involve the person who had now become the “bully” and was feared by most people. The person she spoke about talked to me for hours and let me talk about how I felt hours. He didn’t think I was being a stupid kid. He knew my fears and pain were real because he felt them. In a year or two he would choose to numb his feelings with drugs and alcohol ripping our family apart. Until then he was my protector.
The boy with the red hair had moved. Unfortunately he moved where there was a girl with a bigger target on her back. I was lucky enough to have straight white teeth, eyes the color of the ocean that sometimes became lighter, and for someone as overweight as I was it didn’t show as much in my face. This poor girl came from a family that had given up on everything a long time ago. She was probably 275-300 pounds, her hair never looked or smelled clean, her clothes didn’t either. The boy had no compassion or mercy. I have no idea how or why there was a broom on the school bus. One day she had enough. She picked up the broom and wacked him over the head with it. At first everyone was quiet. Then blood started to pour down the middle of his forehead. He just looked confused. The medics and police came. No one asked us what happened. I wish they had. While I don’t condone violence everyone has a breaking point.
You ignore things so much it becomes a natural response. You grow a callus where your feelings should be. What you don’t know is that it’s all being put in storage for later. You might not feel it at the time, but you will later, when you least expect it.
I loathed all dances but went with W, my sister and her friends, anyway. I would stand as far from the light as possible. I had a habit of constantly pulling at my clothes as if they didn’t fit. The reality was I wore everything 2 sizes bigger than I was. I thought it would hide everything. I kept pulling my shirts down to hide my ass and front even though the shirt was already to my knees. I never wore anything that came higher than mid thigh. My brother jokingly said one time ” Do you even have an ass? Just saying sis cause those shirts are bigger than mine.”. He was trying to help in his way and I wasn’t mad. He was the only one who noticed what I was doing.
I stayed in the shadows for as long as I could. Then High School came.
Scientists believe when an inmate is sent to prison for any long period of time, that person stops maturing and stays at the intellectual and maturity level they were at when incarcerated.
They now believe the same is true for Alcoholics and Drug Addicts. As soon as you start to habitually use/abuse a substance you’re stunted intellectually and socially.
I believe them.