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i never told anyone.

i was looking for some historical files of mine and stumbled across some old stuff i wrote for my imaginative fiction class. A few of the short vignettes i'm still fairly proud of, so i may post them here just for fun. This first one is called 'i never told anyone' and was written in January of 2001.


I never told anyone.

Who could I tell? There’s no one to talk to. The high school halls are blooming with hormones - couples holding hands, kissing, making plans for their big dates; potential couples flirting, smiling at each other, wondering who will make the first move; loners looking around wistfully, trying to see out of the corner of their eyes if someone else is interested in them.

And then there’s me.

It’s not like I’ve never had any offers. I know how the game is played. Amongst hundreds of bodies running between classes, opening up their pale yellow lockers, gabbing with their peers, I could pick out the one who is looking at me. Sitting around the cold, metal, foldable round tables in the cafeteria with my friends, I can tell who laughs at my jokes just a little bit too long. All of the eyes that make contact with mine - in class, in the hall, on the bus - I can read those few particular looks, the auras of interest. Inviting. Questioning.

What do I say?

At home, my older brother would try to hook me up with someone. “C’mon, ‘bro,” he would say. “Stop being such a wuss. It’s just one date. Who knows? Maybe you’ll like each other.” My brother. Star quarterback of the football team. Mr. Popularity.

He would never understand.

Talking about it with anyone would mean judgement. Shame. Ridicule. My brother, my parents, even my best friend, Terri. No one would look at me the same way. I’d rather have them laugh at me in my face than politely avoid me. But they would avoid me. At least avoid it.

I’d be even more alone than I am now.

I have this fantasy – maybe it’s a hope – of being accepted for who I am. No judgements. No smug Christian coming up to me and saying in haughty superior tones, “You’re going to Hell!” Or looking at me with glassy eyes, speaking to me in a sickening tone of total anguish, “I’ll pray for you.” No school counselors trying to talk to me and help me come to terms with a shame that they brought upon me, not one I brought upon myself.

It’s not a choice.

Maybe society will never accept people like me. Only time will tell. For now, I’ll stay hidden within this jail cell of a body. It’s not too uncomfortable, merely cramped. But I know that it can’t be locked up forever. And some day, I hope that I’ll have the confidence to be able to go to my parents, take a deep breath, and tell them.

“Dads,” I’ll say. “I’m straight.”


if i was the sort to go back and revise random things that don't have a future, i would change the title and first sentence from "i never told anyone" to "i haven't told anyone".

i wish i could remember what the actual assignment was that led to writing this. i also wish i could remember how i conceived of the piece in the first place. i'm pretty sure it came after watching The Sixth Sense or something.

anyway. thoughts are welcome.

tag cloud:


( read spoken (5) — speak )
Dec. 10th, 2007 01:47 pm (UTC)
somewhere, in my brain - deep within the dusty closet what is my recollection of things once read - I remember this... did you post it once before somewhere? perhaps emailed it or on the old darknote site?
Dec. 10th, 2007 05:04 pm (UTC)
pretty sure it used to be on my old university of oregon site (not my darknote site). Once i lost that account i never put the material back up again.
Dec. 11th, 2007 03:40 pm (UTC)
yea, i was gonna say the same thing. ah....back in the days of darkwing and gladstone, and good ol' pine on ssh....
Dec. 11th, 2007 04:03 pm (UTC)
good ol' pine? i still use that every now and again. :)
Dec. 12th, 2007 02:34 am (UTC)
haha, you would. ;)
( read spoken (5) — speak )


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