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    Just a Memoir

    AN: Hello everyone. It's been awhile. College has been killing me. On the bright side, I've been writing more this semester. Anyways, time to cut this short. Here's a memoir I wrote.

    Just Transportation


    I hated the school bus. The yellow and black on the surface made it look like a bee with a steroid addiction. The floor inside the bus was worn away by time and abuse. The leather seats were patched up by duct tape to cover up the holes little kids made with their pencils. And pulling the blurry, old windows up or down was a complete chore.

    The bus was loud with chatter from the elementary school students, the honks of the bus driver at other cars that he deemed “too slow,” and his amused laughter as he showed off his middle finger to the tiny army of automobiles on the other side of the glass.

    I was alone looking out of the window. No one wanted to be seen with me because I was the kid with the “gay disease” no one wanted to catch. I walked through the halls hearing “******” and “gay freak” and went through the school day with sneers and laughter aimed at me.

    Children are horrible creatures.

    The bus jerked before descending the lavish Evergreen Hills.

    “Gayjay!”

    I winced at the new nickname that was going around.

    I turned and greeted the girl and her friends, “Hi Pamela.”

    I was pathetic for letting someone younger than me affect me like this. Pamela chewed on her gum. She blew a bubble, popped it, rinse and repeat. Her friends were swinging their eyes between each other, as if they wanted to say something.

    Pamela twirled one of her pigtails with her pointer finger, “We’re sorry. We gave you a name without asking if you were okay with it first.”

    More like everyone ignored my protests.

    “But you have to admit, you act gay right?” She asked.

    “Yeah.”

    In that moment, I just wanted to disappear.

    Just My Voice


    “You’re gay aren’t you?” An obnoxious boy asked.

    “Why does that matter?” I replied.

    "Well your voice is high. You are either gay or a girl!”

    People were supposed to grow up when they get older.

    I was in middle school now. Things were changing. I haven’t heard “******” or “gay freak” when I walked from class to class and I made new friends who actually wanted to be my friends not because they pitied me.

    For once in my life, I felt that I could be happy in school.

    “Why does that matter?” A boy squealed, trying to imitate my voice.

    “Stop it!” I screamed.

    “Stop it!”

    “Everyone cut it out!” The teacher, an elderly woman, ordered.

    I was humiliated. I was blushing from head to toe, fighting the feeling of running out of the classroom as a symphony of laughter haunted my ears. However, what hurt the most wasn’t the seventh graders I didn’t even know. I felt a thousand knives digging repeatedly into my heart when I saw my own friends failing to conceal their fits of laughter.

    “Here’s what Mr. Nguyen asked for,” the teacher said, handing me a stack of papers that my Algebra teacher needed. She glared at her pack of children, “I’m sorry about my students.”

    “No it’s fine,” I said, managing a fake smile.

    “See, he’s fine with it!” A student laughed.

    Just Some Movie


    My dad and I were watching a Christmas movie, of all things, in the living room late at night. It was a rare occurrence for us to spend time together. He would usually watch movies like Saw, while I would be too absorbed in the digital world (pun intended.) It just turned out I was tired of screaming at my ancient laptop.

    No words flew out of our mouths. We never really talked if it wasn’t school related. I could hear my sister’s awkward cackling in the background because of some funny scene she was watching in an anime. The buzz and hum of the TV accompanied her laughter. A lamp, which was sitting on a desk at the corner of the room, lit the living room and both of us were wrapped in blankets.

    “Eeew,” my dad shuddered.

    “What?” I asked.

    “You’re okay with that?” His eyebrows went up to hide behind his short bangs.

    “Well yeah. They love each other. I don’t see anything wrong with it,” I replied.

    “But, two men...kissing!” He exclaimed, “It’s weird, unnatural, and abnormal.”

    I flinched.

    Just Me


    “Hey Simon, what’s up?”

    It was late at night. My laptop’s colored my face with its light and my legs were awkwardly being squashed by my gigantic thighs. I was trying to juggle the million of math problems that were due tomorrow while on Facebook just like any normal high schooler.

    “Hey Nina! I’m fine. How are you?” I asked.

    “I’m alright. How about you?” Her fingers answered.

    “Same. I am just doing homework,” I replied.

    “Oh snaps, I should let you get back to that,” she said frantically.

    “No it’s alright, I’m almost done.”

    I was no where near close to finished. Graphing algebraic functions could wait a thousand years.

    “Thanks for listening to me the last time we talked. I really needed to blow up,” Nina said.

    “Yeah, no problem,” I responded.

    “We’ve been friends since the sixth grade,” Nina began.

    That was debateable. We’ve only started talking and laughing together recently, but I remember the times where she wasn’t so nice. Nina would scurry off to be with the popular kids of our elementary school whenever she could and sat on the sidelines as people sneered at me. There were times where she didn’t think I could hear her talk or laugh at me.

    But still, besides all that, we were on good terms. She knew things about me that I didn’t want anyone to know and vice versa.

    “So do you like anyone?” Nina asked.

    I froze and bit my lip.

    “Who is it?”

    I choked the mouse with my sweaty hands.

    “Hey you can trust me you know.”

    Could I trust her?

    “Sixth grade remember?”

    She turned half of our graduating elementary school class against me on myspace.

    “Yes,” I managed.

    “Who is she?”

    I was burning alive. I broke out in sweat, my teeth were gnawing up and down my thumb, and I was rocking back and forth in my rolling chair. Should she know? She knew every one of my tormentors by face, name, and Facebook account. I didn’t want her to tell any one of them. I couldn’t face the fact that they were right all along.

    I couldn’t live with the fact that I was the gay freak everyone knew all along.

    “He,” I finally confessed, putting all my fate into our long history together.

    Facebook played with my heart. She would type and then stop altogether. My heart would crashed against my ribcage, my teeth abused my lips, and I wished for the power to turn back time to reverse all of this. I didn’t want things to go horribly wrong.

    After the longest ten minutes of my life, an answer finally came.

    “See we all knew you were gay in elementary school Simon. Your life would have been so much easier if you admitted it earlier.”

    My heart took a thousand foot nose dive and shattered.

    “Hey can I talk to you later? My parents are asking me to do some chores.”

    “Sure. Talk to you later!” She smiled.

    Why can’t I just be me?
    Last edited by Brilliant Comet; 04-03-2015 at 03:45 AM.


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