I remembered something I wish I hadn't in a dream last night. It was from middle school 7th grade. I was in the Choir classroom with all the other girls, getting ready for our performance that December, just sitting in a circle with my "Friends" we were talking about our parents. I had mentioned that my Dad was a really nice guy when you got past his scary beard-My "friends" had always said that he scared them-when one of the girls, a slightly overweight Latino 'friend' of mine who's name escapes me, decided to lash out at me for no reason with the most disgusting and terrible comment I've ever heard, even to this day. I remember exactly every word, every biting tone she used as she said that poisonous sentence.
"Your Dad's only nice to you because he ******** you every night."
I wanted so badly to hit her as hard as I could across the face and scream at her "Shut up, my Father's the kindest man I know, how dare you even think about such a thing you sick, disgusting b***h!" but instead I had suppressed it and went crying to the teacher, quoting what she had said between my sobs and gasps for air.
I think that was when Constance had been created. All my other issues and problems with the other middle schoolers had created an egg and nest for her in my head, but that one sick comment had her tearing out of that egg and screaming inside my head all these vulgar terms towards that one girl.
That day my heart had turned to rock. I could feel it as it stopped moving and caring for people. The only ones I listened and cared about was my parents and Constance, the only one besides the teacher who had tried to comfort me that day, my other "friends" just stayed next to the disgusting girl as if nothing had happened.
I haven't told anyone about this, haven't dared to. Especially not my Father. I remember that when the performance was over and I came back home with my Mom (Dad couldn't make it because of work) that I had just went straight to bed and didn't even say hi to Dad because I was afraid that I would start crying again and tell him everything. I don't even know if I really want to allow anyone to see this, I'm tempted to set it to private.
When people ask me if there was anything I regret from my childhood, this one experience always immedately rears its ugly head in my thoughts. It makes me sick, the fact that the one thing I regret was not beating the s**t out of that girl for saying those things.
 Fizzyology · Sat May 23, 2009 @ 06:13pm · 0 Comments |
