With adulthood still seeming like light years away, I began plugging away at my desired destiny. Though the whispers sometimes got to me, I allowed myself to block them out.
“He is so strange..”
“I bet he has a mental condition..”
“Why doesn’t he become a real man and hunt..”
These words, these people. began to eat away at me. Why are people judging me for my different interests? Why are people always bringing me up in conversation? These questions began to hide my identity as an outgoing, passionate individual at school, and my hatred for the prison I was held captive in only grew stronger.
I was now in seventh grade, which truthfully, was a weird time for everyone. Puberty arose within the lives of many, and the boys in my class discovered the power of alcoholic beverages and cigarettes, which made them seem like these drinks and smokes were the perfect ways to solve problems. I feel sorrow for them now, as consuming these would ruin their lives and reputations.
Once again, I was a prime target. not engaging in these risky activities made me seem vulnerable once again, and though I was never invited to parties or asked to hang out with these substances in place, the looks on peoples faces when I began to walk down the prison halls at school began to change.
My Time in HighSchool. 