Wednesday, May 14, 2003

Today I woke up and was troubled by a painful memory. Since I did not cause the suffering of others, nor picked any unwinnable fights, which the outcomes were to be blamed on what a horrible person I was, the more steeped in American culture may want to step off and read someone else�s story about that fag they pushed to suicide, and what a loser he was.

Ok, junior year of high school, I of course committed the cardinal sin of being too trusting. Some may say you should always be trusting, but they say that to create more lambs for the slaughter. Anyway, me and an acquaintance of mine from class and clubs were in the same lunch period. Back then my clueless self was aware I could not sit with the pretty and popular or some of the snootier middle classes, but in my naivet�, I thought those people merely didn�t like nobody, and most others would have some sense. I mean, it was just sitting at lunch, for god�s sake!

So I sat with this acquaintance and her friends during lunch. At first, it was ok; I ate my lunch and mostly minded my own business, talked a bit. In my own eyes, I didn�t do anything objectionable, but one of my problems is that I have a hard time making up things to object to. If it isn�t hurting me or isn�t too too stupid, I usually don�t have a problem with it.

Now, one day, I was busy being clueless as usual and eating my lunch, which of course, made me an awful person. So I opened my mouth to say something. I don�t remember. I�m sure you�ll all say it was something foolish at this point, because noone could possibly been mean without some sort of motive. According to people who have never been hurt, pure uncalculated meanness doesn�t exist in this world.

Yet, it did. She said �Don�t you notice that noone listens when you talk? Nobody likes you� and something about how I should go away. No, I did not put up the sort of admirable fight people like to blame you for not putting up. Everyone else was silent, and silence gives consent. Remember that, teens, silence gives consent.

I did call her a bitch and continue sitting there a week in defiance. But I then moved to the library and suffered starvation after thinking it wasn�t worth my health for a lunchroom quarrel. I could eat during English, but in no other class. A year later, the girl dropped out, and I was slightly glad. The people who had tons of friends who wanted to sit with them who were in the same lunch, or those who never desired friends may wonder why I remember this story. I am glad you guys got the brass ring, and never had to work for it.

However, this story is a constant reminder of what I should not do. Whenever I want to give up to my trusting instincts, I remember this story, and how there is danger even in seeming safety. Maybe that is a good reminder even for those who were given the brass ring.

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