(no subject)

[felicula]

My problems in school didn't really start until my family moved back up to the Buffalo, NY area from the suburb of Baltimore, MD where I'd lived from age 3 to age 8. An S.O. of mine at one point referred to the neighborhood we moved into as a "rich bitch" part of town. The kids in that school were some of the most stuck-up, royal-pains-in-the-ass that I've ever met to this day. I remember a time on the bus that my arm was grabbed as I was seated, pulled backwards. The edge of the seat was firm enough to scare me that my arm would be dislocated or broken. I'm just glad that it satisfied their mischief enough without sustaining that sort of injury. Enough happened on the bus, though, to encourage me to quit taking the bus and walk to school rain or snow.

There was one bus incident that was confusing to me at the time. I didn't realize the implications until I was much, much older. It started with the usual whispered comments, and the innate sense that they were talking about me. Then silence. I didn't dare look as I saw someone approach from the very edge of my peripheral vision. The shadowy form disappeared as quickly as it appeared. Having seemingly done nothing, I just kept my eyes straight ahead and tried not to think about what people had giggled at once whoever it was had rejoined them.

Eventually, my curiosity got the better of me. I looked over towards that side of the seat. At first I didn't see what it was, but then my eyes focused on a little plastic ring. I thought it was pretty. I liked rainbows. Shrugging to myself, I pocketed the thing. I never wore it, I just kept it with all my other pack-ratted stuff.

Years later, I had come to grips with being bisexual. It was just a part of me. I don't remember exactly when I ended up peeking through that old jewelry box. I picked up that little rainbow ring and laughed my ass off. How exactly people could tell that I was a bit different in my sexuality when I was in 4th or 5th grade, I'll never know. It's a great little gay-pride item to have though. I haven't seen one precisely like it since. I sure treasure uniqueness and differences, though!

Unfortunately, the same quality in me that made me appreciative of the underhanded gift was the same set of rumors that floated around me in high school. I wasn't the only target, though. Anyone who was a reasonable close friend of mine at the all-girls school were branded "Lesbian" by the rumor mill.

It was half true in my case. I'd fallen head-over-heels for a girl who didn't seem to know which way she was at any given time. I still remember that odd day when she was over working on writing things together. I didn't quite know what to make of it when she put her arm around me. I did know that I didn't mind. It didn't feel wrong. Just that teenage-awkward of not quite knowing whether someone means it or not. She seemed to find a lot of excuses to hold my hand, or to link arm-in-arm after that, though.

I'll never know whether the turning point was a dream or real. It was a sleepover at a mutual friend's house. I thought I'd somewhat woken up, the room still dark. Her form was above me whispering something to the effect of, "Shhh, it's OK," and kissing me. Later, I dreamed that she and I were still close together in the morning, with our friend's father and siblings coming in and seeing us. I know I dreamed that part, but the first part will never be certain. All I know for sure is that the next day I knew without a doubt that I liked girls too, and that I was completely and utterly crushing on her.

That was the beginning of a very wild ride. A lot of unspoken things... I never knew from on second to the next whether she'd pull me close or push me away. A lot of what I remember from that time was loving her completely, my emotions riding on whether or not she accepted my love that day or not. Our music teacher picked an extraordinarily appropriate song for my piece in voice class. It was a song from Follies called "Losing My Mind". It said what I was going through all too well. "The sun comes up, I think about you. The coffee cup, I think about you"... "You said you love me, or were you just being kind... Or am I losing my mind?"

I later found out that she was telling at least one other that she was trying to "help" me. I also got to be in the room when she called or was called by several different guys, told each of them in turn that she loved them. She then seemed to expect me to still believe her when she said those same three words to me. Nope. Still, she was the first person I was that completely in love with. I'd had crushes before that; I'd thought I was in love before that. With her I was completely obsessed. The first time she overtly rejected me it nearly destroyed me, I'd let my emotions be so deeply tied to her attentions.

Life goes on. It has, though I was likely the most totally surprised by it at first. Spring is a time of death and rebirth. The long winter finally begins to fade, and one can start seeing not just the lonely beauty of tragedy, but the rich tapestry of a life reclaimed for one's own.

In a way, I owe her at least a measure of the self-confidence I've gained since that time. Many things have made me who I am today. I don't forget that. I don't wish ill upon her. Sometimes I wonder where she is and what sorts of turns her life has taken since then. Mostly, though, I just continue being myself.



I will not stand for bullying.

Everyone Feels This Pain
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I saw this posted by ecwoodburn and had the curiosity to follow a few of the links involved. I've known way too many, myself included, who've been subjected to many forms of physical and emotional torment simply for having qualities that the others didn't understand and refused to tolerate. I altered the top text by one word so that those who haven't read all the background on it can still understand that it refers to bullying.