27.01.10....life lessons

I found myself getting in darker and darker personal places. I guess this is what happens when you start to come into your own. Once you've established who you are, you tend to battle with it internally, still trying to convince yourself that you're a normal, well adjusted piece of youthful exhuberance.
You go through the motions, finding friends that are supposed to supply you with a self acceptance, a self assurance. It doesn't work like that. I can't say that it never works like that, because there are a great many that are able to take those motions and spin them into golden years, golden memories.
This is not to say I didn't have great times. I went on all the same dumb adventures kids and teenagers go through, but at the end of it all, I came home at night, crawled into bed and felt empty as when I woke up.
You start to feel voids. You begin to rust the gleam of those shining adventures, and most of the time, there's no real reason to do so other than, as I've now come to realize, fully coming to terms with the fact at hand: you're kind of fucked up.

I spent my junior high school years floating in and out of social circles. I made friends with people that I would assume would enjoy me being around. I never had much to say, which never stopped me from speaking, though, it made me come off as just an extended part of the scenery. I was what a lot of kids that age would consider a simple acquaintance, never really finding my place.
I knew it would end up like this during these years from one very small instance. It was a week before I was to begin my seventh grade school year, the last week of august. I had had a friend named Jason since third grade. Looking back, there was no friendship....this was the very defenition of an acquaintance.
Jason and I were in the same third grade (my second third grade...) and with about a month left in that elementary school year, I realized while walking home from school, that we were always headed the same way home. He was actually the one that brought it up, as he sped past me on his bmx bike one day. He asked me where I lived, to which I replied Prospect Street before asking him the same.
"Highland...I'm the next street over from you. That's so weird. How did we not know each other until now?"
I shrugged in response, which was my trademark maneuver to any question someone asked me.
We started hanging out, naturally. When you find a kid the same age as you that lives only a three minute walk away, it's a somewhat given outcome. Jason had what every young male could want. There was a basketball hoop, a skateboard ramp built by his father who was a carpenter, and an unlimited supply of little debbie snacks in his kitchen.
We found ourselves hanging out on a daily basis, playing any sort of competitive game we could think of with other neighborhood kids, which blew me away, since I didn't know there really was any other neighborhood kids. Summer vacations were the grounds for early morning baseball or basketball games that lasted well into the night, until we both made our way home.
It went on like this until the last year of elementary school, being sixth grade, in which time Jason had found another set of friends that, I readily admit, were on the much more popular end of the spectrum. He found himself with a girlfriend, going on dates and such that, at my young age, was forbidden. If I were to be able to have a girlfriend at that time, the basis of the relationship remained waving to each other in between classes at school. There were no dates for me, as per order of my parents, which I can completely understand. My parents were born in the fifties and grew up in the sixties in the same small town and wanted thier son to do the same. Whenever I did find myself with a girlfriend in juior high, I would lie and tell them I was going to a friend's house before heading to the local movie theater.
So, Jason had good things going for him. We still hung out a lot, kept playing basketball or video games, anything we had the time for. The only difference is that he would end the sessions early, having somewhere else to be. He never wanted me to go hang out with his new friends, which never seemed a problem. I was never concerned with meeting their approval or finding out what they were doing.

That summer before junior high was bizarre. I spent most of the days doing my regular routine, but there was a fear hanging inside of me, knowing that in two months I would begin life at a different school with different kids. I was ready for a letdown, I just didn't know what that letdown would be. Everything seemed like it was going to change. I kept telling myself it would be for the better, that going to a new place with new faces and new options was something positive. It was, or, it would have been if I hadn't been the type of person I am. Instead, I prepared for the letdown of real life (or, as real as life could be when you still live at home and have no bills, rent, etc...).
There was a dance at the junior high, just a few weeks before I was to begin. I didn't want to go. I had no intention of walking into a large gym and watching as everyone would turn and unwelcome you into the new halls of judgement. Well, I went, anyways. I was coerced into it by Jason and my neighbor Kate, the girl who I grew up with that lived across the street. I wore some stupid outfit, in hopes to look even remotely cool, remotely in touch with what everyone around me was comfortable in.
There are a few small things I remember about the dance. I can recall walking in, having one of my minor daily panic attacks. At least it was dark. At least I wasn't able to make out the expressions on most people's faces. This was not me and never would be, but I did it just the same. I did it to prove to myself that it could be done. They were playing music of that era, a sad mix of commercial hip hop and rock. Every eighth or ninth song, though, I'd be given the gift of hearing Public Enemy's "Fight the Power" or something along those lines. Something that on the surface was widely accessible, but within me was a reminder of the other worlds where I'd rather end up.
Slow dances. I spent most of the night on the side benches, talking with a few people I had spent the previous years with in clasrooms, up untill slow dances would begin. At that time, like clockwork, I'd end up sitting there with maybe one other person, watching as the young romances were attmpting to be established on the dancefloor. I'd feel my face red and warm, sensing that the whole room was focused on me as I sat on that bench, wondering why I wasn't out there. The last dance of the night, a girl came up and asked me to go out on the floor with her. With my head dizzy and my heart ready to burst out of my chest, I walked slowly with her, knowing I had no idea how to do what everyone else was doing. I didn't even know where to put my hands. To this day, I'm surprised I didn't shriek, punch a window and run out of the building.
She wasn't the prettiest girl there, and the fact that she wanted me to dance proved she wasn't the most popular. But, the fact that she asked me to go out there instead of one of my fellow saps next to me was proof that she was, without a doubt, one of the kindest girls in attendance that night. There's no punchline to this. I went out there, messed up a few times by stepping on her feet. She was nice enough to show me where to put my hands. I hadn't touched a girl before that, so, yeah, it was enough to get me a little excited about my future. The dance was over, I thanked her and then I made a break for the door, ready for the night to be done, which it was.

I rode high for a few weeks after that, feeling as though maybe the next six years of schooling would bring about in me a welcome transformation from young nothing to young adult something. I felt good. Jason and I would go to pick up basketball games every day. It was something I needed, that I enjoyed.
There aren't many specifics about what happened. On the grand scale of worthless moments, this remains high, but it was enough of an incident to make me remember it even now. We went back to that gym, where two weeks before I had had my first slow dance, to play some more basketball. The school had opened the doors for anyone in junior high to come play. I set foot back into the room, this time bright and alive as opposed to the dark unknown world I had walked into previously. The smell of sweat and the noise of squeaking sneakers was welcome to me. It felt good and comfortable.
There were older guys there, somethat definitely hadn't been in juniour high for a few years. I wasn't intimidated. This was back when I had a competitive nature and was quite a good basketball player. I had no problem joining into pick up games with people older than me. I was able to hold my own. We shot around for a while before games were begun.
At some point I was standing near Jason when one of the older guys came over and said something to us, asking whether we were going to play. We both said yes, and the kid nodded in approval. He then started asking us the usual dumb shit about whether we were going to school here now, do you know this guy, blah blah blah. I stopped paying attention, ready to get out on the court and initiate the whole reason I came to the gym in the first place. I snapped out of my daydream in time to hear the older kids ask Jason and I if we were friends.
"Yeah." I replied.
"No..." was Jason's response.
I must have looked a little bewildered, because the older kids cracked a small grin and looked back at Jason, which was what I was doing as well.
"You mean, you're not his friend?" he asked Jason again. Jason wouldn't look back at me, trying instead to focus on anything but my surprised expression.
"No...we just live near each other." was all he said.
"This kid right here....right next to you, is not your friend."
At this point, Jason repeated himself, but not without a tone of guilt in his voice. He knew what he was doing, but there wasn't enough of a reason to stop himself. He was drawing his line in the sand and establishing what the rest of the school years would be like. There was something in him that was letting him know that he was only as cool as the company that surrounds him.
The older kid raised his eyebrows and looked back at me. Almost apologetically, he told me, "Looks like you had one less friend than you thought you did...."
I nodded in response. "I guess so."
I didn't look back at Jason after that. The older kid turned around and dribbled a basketball back to center court. Following close behind was Jason. For the next few hours he didn't say anything to me, and I didn't make an effort to force him to. I understood why he did what he did. Some just need that feeling of belonging, and for Jason, it was imperative to his future schooltime endeavors to be a part of what he considered was the elite.
He left the pick up games with the older kid and his friends. I walked home by myself, thoroughly enjoying my time playing basketball. I was supposed to spend the night at his house that night, but instead I came through our back door and was met by my mom in the kitchen.
"I thought you were over Jason's tonight." was all she got out.
"Me too. I guess he had different plans he forgot about." was all I could say back. I didn't want to get into a story, and didn't want to waste my time telling her how I'd just been sold out for my lack of social grade. Mothers are there to tell you not to worry about things and that you are a great person that will have a bunch of new friends when school starts, and, truth be told, I didn't want to hear any of that. I wanted things to remain as blunt and viewed in face value as they were inside my head at that moment.
We saw each other every day at school when the year started. We met up a few times, found ourselves at the same school sports games. I never brought up that night and neither did he, though we both knew what it meant. He moved away at the end of that year. He had a going away party that I was invited to, but politefully declined to be a part of. You spend your last days with your friends, and not the ones you'd lie about being friends with.
I'm sure that night didn't realy mean shit to him, and I feel the same. I've remembered it all this time, not because I lost a great friendship that I though I'd had, but because it was another good life lesson. I remember that night because it shows how very little the amount of people you can rely on.