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The drama of growing up

The drama of growing up

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Published by Alexander

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Published by: Alexander on Jul 22, 2008
Copyright:Attribution Non-commercial


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I am 13 years old
Tall gray walls with silver accentsOne door, many chairs, no peopleA wooden Arc stands behind me holding precious treasureValuable scrolls decorated elaboratelySlowly my family and friends begin to meander inSchmoozing and chattingWaiting for me to beginWhat I have worked so hard for Today I lead the serviceToday I read from the scrollsToday I am celebratedToday I become a man
I am 16 years old
The loud buzzing of my alarm wakes me upI rub my eyes and roll out of bed to the bathroomI got through my routine and head downstairs to harass my parents“When are we going?” I ask again and againDad drives meWe wait an hour to get called to the counter So many different people are thereAges, races, styles, facesBut that all doesn’t matter I am there for my independenceI am there to be able go where I want, when I want No one else matters, no one else will matter I will be freeHe takes my photo and after the longest five minutes ever He hands it to meThe photo is ugly, but who caresI am freeI go home and get in my car and driveAnd drive and drive and driveIt doesn’t matter that I am not going anywhereI am going and no one can stop me and that is all
I am 18 years old
He knocks on my door I let him in and we greet each other He is cute and is acting so confidentBut I am so nervous my hands are shaking,sweatingWe sit on my bed and I put in a CD“So, let go, let goJump inOh well, what you waiting for?”Frou Frou sings in our earsHe lets goAnd puts his hand on my leg and looks up into my eyesI let goAnd lean in and kiss him quick and hardThings move so fast and time moves so slowMy room seems so strange and I feel so out of placeI don’t even feel like I am in my body anymoreThe whole act seems so scripted and out of my controlAn hour later it’s all over I feel so strangeWe go and take a shower Trying to behave ourselves as we clean off Returning to bed I can’t sleepHe keeps moving out of my armsI knew this was comingIt wouldn’t be the last time either “I don’t think I am gay,I was just seeing what it was like”What it was like?It was sex!It was funIt was pleasurableIt was my virginityAnd for you it was what an experiment?You don’t think your gay!That’s a laugh!It didn’t seem that way an hour ago
When you were moaning and clenching my sheets in your fistWhat a joke!My first time is an experimentAnd every time after that has been an experiment tooAn experiment to see how much I can make him like itAnd make him hurt when I feign no disappointment
To the parents
Bright yellow lights are flashing on the park bench in front of meI’m in hand cuffs and in tearsI see my parents pull upAnd the tears stop and the fear beginsMy parents take me home and there is a lecture the whole way“Why are you drinking Alex?”“Why are you doing this to yourself?“And in a park that’s so stupid, who were you with?”“I cry and cry and cry”“And run into my room, lock the door and crash into my bed”“My parents come up in a few minutes”“Knocking knocking knocking”“Alex we know what’s wrong”Really because I don’t“Alex I read your journal” Mom says“You what!” I shout back “Alex, is it true?”“Are you gay?”I am.
To my friends
I sit in the cold classroomWaiting for everyone to show upI start painting a poster for orientation at my high schoolwhich we will be putting on the next dayMr. Wells waddles in like a penguin and sits at his desk In his usual polo and slacksSipping on his diet cokeWith his round stomach and grey hair giving him a grandfatherly look 

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