I have to get home. This is the only opportunity I'll have in like a month, so I don't want to miss it. With the guys out of the house, I can finally indulge in my desire that has been lying dormant inside me like a volcano, but today is my chance. We've lived in Fresno for three months and we are already accommodated. Stan and Adam got jobs and we are able to support the house we live in. It's small, affordable, and for three guys, it works.
I make haste to my car and drive fast, but carefully, to our home. Fresno is a nice place and we have no problem calling it a home. It really feels that way. I've never really felt this way in my old hometown, which, I guess, means it never was a home. You can live somewhere for a long time and call it a home, but home has a whole different meaning then what is perceived in the media. What they what you to call home is not what I call a home. It's far from it.
My car gently enters and settles in our baron driveway. Adam is working and Stan, who is usually home at this time, is at the doctor's office getting a check-up. He thinks he injured his wrist, but I think it's something minor. He is, however, paranoid about screwing up his drumming career on something like this. I exited my car, which I just brought from home after I left it there with some of my other stuff until I was sure this was permanent. I didn't want to take it all with me then have to take it back if things didn't go to plan. I'm glad it is.
As I walked up the small path, I peered around the neighborhood to see if anyone was around. There was a small few, but nobody to worry about. I wanted privacy, which is something that was hard to come by in this world. I stumbled with the key, unlocked the door and entered a still, messing house. The dining room, or what was supposed to be a dining room, was now home to a table filled with papers about nothing. I carefully walk past it and entered our living room/bedroom. This humble area is where we live and sleep. Stan and Adam both sleep on this couch thing called a sectional that we bought and I sleep on this inflatable mattress that Stan brought with him. Our reason for not using the bedroom for it's purposes and intentions is because it was our new practice area. We all have to make sacrifices for success, and if I have to sleep on a blue inflatable mattress, well so be it.
I walked past the mattress and to the hall closet, where I keep a box of my belongings. When opening the box, all someone will notice is a bunch of t-shirts, a few folders of various stuff and a clear, cylinder case of blank CDs. Underneath it are my desires. A box of fluffy white diapers. I've been hiding these things from my roommates ever since I brought it along with my car and my laptop about a month ago, and with my roommates gone for at least an hour and a half, I could enjoy it. I entered our bathroom, which is right next to our practice room in the back of the house, removed a diaper and unfolded it on the floor. After double checking the lock on the door, I removed my pants and underwear and laid my naked bottom onto the diaper. I fastened the seal like I've done many times before and stood up. I looked at it in the mirror and admire it's beauty. How something so simple could bring me so much joy is beyond me, but right now is about enjoying it, not wondering why I enjoy it.
I exited the bathroom and put the remaining diapers away safely in my box of belongings. The rustling of the diaper was like music, filling the quiet air like rain on a cloudy day. I sifted through my bags of belongings and located my laptop. We have yet to acquire an internet connection, but the guy next door has a wireless connection, so I use that and delete my browsing history. I don't know if that really works, but what is he going to do about it. I reentered the bathroom and sat down criss-cross on the floor with the door locked. This is not only the most private place, but the guy’s internet connection works best in this area too. My hands unfolded the laptop and I start it up. Several minutes go by as I wait. I suddenly feel what was making me move in haste to get here. I rarely do this, but when I do, I intend to make sure I can enjoy it and have time to clean up afterwards. I am talking about, or course, messing in my diaper. For some reason, the feeling of my fecal matter exiting my body gives me an emotional and sexual explosion. An indescribable feeling that only the soft touch of a woman can compare. There are times where I feel like there is something seriously wrong with me, and then there are time where I just say "fuck the world and your social conformity".
My computer finally boots up and I log onto a social diaper website called "Diaper buddies". It's one of many that I have. I go on every now and check my messages, then go and eye the beautiful girl, which is what I'm doing now. I quickly go through my friends list and friend her profile. My hand move feverishly as I want to make every second count. Finally, her face pops up and I click on her picture. Her picture speaks so much to me, it's almost as if she is not real, which sometimes sends me into a slump. The way her hair glistens from the camera flash and her blue eyes covered by glasses stare into mine, it's almost as if she is in the room. At the very bottom of the picture, a small glimpse of her diaper comes into it. In one part of my mind, it's real, as real as anything could be, but in the other part, my mind tells me cloud nine is closed and entry is only by waiting in a long line. Just standing in line, waiting for my chance to feel that feeling that the movies are always shoving in my face, is not how I want to live my life, but do I have a choice?
I feel my bottom swell with pain as my body knows it is in a diaper and is used to the feeling of going without a toilet. I have a fear of one day losing control and maybe even having to wear everyday, which may seem glamorous to some, but is not as glamorous to me. I forced my body to hold it back with everything I have as not to let my body lose control, but finally, it comes. The pain soon dissolves and I feel a warm sensation over my bottom. I feel the emotional and sexual explosion just then. All the forces of the universe and my soul collide into a cascade of colorful music playing in my mind and inside my eyelids. Everything suddenly matters, then nothing matters. Everything is at peace, yet war ravages my mind like one man against an army of thousands. Yet, there is no fear in his eyes. He knows the answers to everything and he knows where it will all end for him, for them, and for all of us.
In the slew of things running through my mind, I look at the laptop and her beautiful face. I feel my hand come off my body and onto the keyboard. The mouse scrolls over the message bar with such ease, it's almost like it's doing it by itself. The bar is clicked and the box appears. Words from my mind, heart and soul pour onto the keyboard like it's the only thing that matters. The words say everything, but from the wrong the eyes it will mean nothing. Please, let her eyes be the right eyes.
The waterfall of hopes and dreams slowly dries and I clean myself up. I shower, wrap up the dirty diaper and dress myself in clean cloths. I exited the bathroom to a still silent house, and I locate the clock on the wall. It reads 4:30. Stan should be home any minute now. I exited the back door, opened the trash receptacle, lifted up a trash bag and put the diaper underneath. No one will ever know. I reentered the house and light some incense. I find it very calming and it clears my mind of all the things that should matter, but doesn't right now. It also helps clear the smell. I sat on the couch with my guitar and let the feelings that were just felt rub off onto my guitar. Simple strumming turns into a solo. My fingers move along the fret broad, making noise that sound like love, anarchy, and hope. The sound of wheels moving against the pavement come up and slowly stop. A car door slams shut and footsteps approach the house. The door opens and Stan pops his head in. Before any formal greeting happens, a phrase I enjoy hearing leaves his mouth. "You were right." He flashes a brace on his wrist and quickly puts it back to his side.
"I told you. And you were all worried."
"It's just a minor ache that will go away in a week. I just need to lay off drumming for a bit." He tells me as he sits down on the couch.
"Yeah, me and Adam can work on some guitar stuff I got in my mind."
"Really, can I hear."
"Sure." I lift my guitar and play the rhythm for him. His eyes widen as I am only half-way through. When the final note is plucked, I turn to him as his overjoyed expression explodes everywhere. "That was badass! You wrote that?" He say in excitement
"Yeah. What do you think?"
"Dude, it sounds like a mix of like, punk, metal, reggae rock. Dude, that was awesome. What were listening to?"
"Nothing."
"Are you high? Did you take some mind-altering drugs while I was away?"
"No."
"We have go to use that in a song."
"You got any ideas?"
"I got a slow, surf beat you can put that to. Add some distortion, speed it up, we got a song." He looks at his wrist and suddenly realized he will have to wait a week before we can start working again. His hands slam against his head as he exclaims his dissatisfaction. "Fuck!"
"Hey, you wanted to see the doctor." I told him. His head leaves his hands and stares at me.
"Fuck you."
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Going Nowhere, Chapter Five: So Long and Thanks For All The Misery
Adam truck was packed. I'm surprise it can still move. We got all our stuff, or at least the stuff we need in Fresno, anyways, and we were packed. I'm happy to be leaving this hell hole of a town, but I'm more excited because I just got my acceptance letter to Cal State Fresno. I was happy when it came in because I rejected from 7 other schools that I applied to. This was my second to last one that I sent and I was hoping it would be the one because I don't like getting to close to the wire. Also, where I got into pretty much dictated where we moved, and by the grace of god we found a one bedroom, one bathroom house for $600 a month. It was enough room for three guys to live, sleep and practice. With all of us pitching in, we had $6000 to survive on until one of us gets a job, and I was praying it would be soon.
Of course, one concern still looms. My desire to wear diapers is going to be put aside for a while, but I might be able to enjoy them every now and then. Who knows, I might move and get a place of my own someday.
I stood outside of my house and waved my goodbye to my mom and dad. They were kind of sad, but I told them I would visit. My sis, on the other hand, was more than excited. She was the only one home now and she didn't have to put up with my bands music anymore. I hugged my mother one last time. Man, she was a wreck. My dad came over and pried her away from me and gave me a handshake. He looked me in the eyes and smiled. "Listen, Brian. You are entering the real world and it will not be as good to you as home was. Just get on your feet and take it like a man."
"Don't worry, dad. I'm smart enough to keep myself in line."
"Alright." I shook his hand one last time and got into the truck with Stan and Adam. "Let's fucking do this, man." Adam said with the biggest grin on his face I've seen in a long time.
"Hell yeah!" Stan practically shouted in my ear. "California, here we come." The car pulled away from my old home and I watched it drift off into the distance. I was finally leaving this world behind. I have no reason to stay and no admiration of coming back. We passed Mandy's house, Tiffany's house, and even Samantha Walter's house. I had little care for these people anymore. It all dried up for everyone in this town, with exception of my family. It was the only reason. I had no care for the bullies, the conformist, the whiners, the people who think they can force their ideals onto you, and especially the people who don't know how to except things. They can't just let it be. They to make sure their dislike for it exist and must be tolerated, or else you will never fit in. So what? Does it look like I want to fit your moral standard. To hell with them. To hell with them all. So long and thanks for all the misery, people.
We drove all the way to the end of town and pulled over to the sign that greeted people to our town. It was a huge white sign and the letters loomed over the black two cab truck as if to say, "You are going nowhere like always". Maybe, but nowhere was better then here. Stan unbuckled his seatbelt and reach into the bag by his feet. Adam's head peered through the back seat with a look of confusion. "What are you doing?"
"One second. I've been want to do this since my freshmen year." He pulled out a can of spray-paint and a camera. "Here, Brian." He handed me the small camera. "I want you to take a picture of this, okay?"
"Sure, but don't fuck up. Last thing we need to do is get a fine."
"Don't worry." He exited the truck and looked around for any cop cars or an authority figure. He saw none and pulled the top of the can of spray-paint. He shook the can violently and began to cross out the town name. The green paint beautifully cover the name of this town of which we've all come to dislike for our own personal reasons. Once the name was completely covered, his hand lowered and began writing a name. This name was something I coined a while back and he became obsessed with it, almost to the point where he referred to the town by it. The letters appeared, big and gleaming, over the white sign. Once he was down, I picked up the camera and took a picture of it. Stan quickly reentered the truck and gestured to Adam to start driving away. I scrolled through the pictures to find the right one. At the very bottom of the stack, it stood proud and was a perfect summary of our feelings in this place. On the sign, the replacement name for our former home read "NOTHINGTOWN". It was nothing to us. It was once, but they let it slip through their hands. So long, nothingtown...
Of course, one concern still looms. My desire to wear diapers is going to be put aside for a while, but I might be able to enjoy them every now and then. Who knows, I might move and get a place of my own someday.
I stood outside of my house and waved my goodbye to my mom and dad. They were kind of sad, but I told them I would visit. My sis, on the other hand, was more than excited. She was the only one home now and she didn't have to put up with my bands music anymore. I hugged my mother one last time. Man, she was a wreck. My dad came over and pried her away from me and gave me a handshake. He looked me in the eyes and smiled. "Listen, Brian. You are entering the real world and it will not be as good to you as home was. Just get on your feet and take it like a man."
"Don't worry, dad. I'm smart enough to keep myself in line."
"Alright." I shook his hand one last time and got into the truck with Stan and Adam. "Let's fucking do this, man." Adam said with the biggest grin on his face I've seen in a long time.
"Hell yeah!" Stan practically shouted in my ear. "California, here we come." The car pulled away from my old home and I watched it drift off into the distance. I was finally leaving this world behind. I have no reason to stay and no admiration of coming back. We passed Mandy's house, Tiffany's house, and even Samantha Walter's house. I had little care for these people anymore. It all dried up for everyone in this town, with exception of my family. It was the only reason. I had no care for the bullies, the conformist, the whiners, the people who think they can force their ideals onto you, and especially the people who don't know how to except things. They can't just let it be. They to make sure their dislike for it exist and must be tolerated, or else you will never fit in. So what? Does it look like I want to fit your moral standard. To hell with them. To hell with them all. So long and thanks for all the misery, people.
We drove all the way to the end of town and pulled over to the sign that greeted people to our town. It was a huge white sign and the letters loomed over the black two cab truck as if to say, "You are going nowhere like always". Maybe, but nowhere was better then here. Stan unbuckled his seatbelt and reach into the bag by his feet. Adam's head peered through the back seat with a look of confusion. "What are you doing?"
"One second. I've been want to do this since my freshmen year." He pulled out a can of spray-paint and a camera. "Here, Brian." He handed me the small camera. "I want you to take a picture of this, okay?"
"Sure, but don't fuck up. Last thing we need to do is get a fine."
"Don't worry." He exited the truck and looked around for any cop cars or an authority figure. He saw none and pulled the top of the can of spray-paint. He shook the can violently and began to cross out the town name. The green paint beautifully cover the name of this town of which we've all come to dislike for our own personal reasons. Once the name was completely covered, his hand lowered and began writing a name. This name was something I coined a while back and he became obsessed with it, almost to the point where he referred to the town by it. The letters appeared, big and gleaming, over the white sign. Once he was down, I picked up the camera and took a picture of it. Stan quickly reentered the truck and gestured to Adam to start driving away. I scrolled through the pictures to find the right one. At the very bottom of the stack, it stood proud and was a perfect summary of our feelings in this place. On the sign, the replacement name for our former home read "NOTHINGTOWN". It was nothing to us. It was once, but they let it slip through their hands. So long, nothingtown...
Going Nowhere, Chapter Four: The Truth is..
We exited the stage after a heart pounding performance. I was more nervous about this then anything I have ever done before. The crowd applauded and seemed to be very pleased by our performance, despite it being nothing but conformist. That's what I thought, anyway. We passed another band who performed earlier that night. The singer looked at me and gave me a thumbs up. "Great job, man. That was awesome." he said
"Really? You think so?" I said out of breath
"Dude, seriously. All those other crappy bands have nothing on you guys."
"Yeah, I was really nervous."
"Don't be. It's safe to say you are the best vocalist in this godforsaken town."
"Really?"
"Yeah, every other local band I see is just mediocre or even terrible singers. You bands lucky to have you."
"Yeah, well I'm lucky to have my band."
"Same here. I'm thinking of leaving this place after we graduate and heading to the So Cal."
"Really? What about college?"
"I might go to college there, but who knows. I just want to get outta here."
"Yeah, I know." He started to walk away when I remembered something. "Hey, are you still up for the LA show?"
"If we can make the trip." He and his band walked away and I joined Adam and Stan behind the theatre. We were all tired and didn't want to stay and see the underclassmen perform a cover of some stupid pop-punk band. We loaded Adam's truck with our stuff and left for Jack in the Box. The ride was filled with stupid banter about each others mothers and ex-girlfriends. The guys were careful to bring up Mandy. We haven't spoken in a while and I haven't made any attempts to do so. I guess I just lost interest in her.
Adam pulled into the parking lot slowly and parked. We exited the truck and walked through the empty lot and into the almost empty restaurant. We ordered our food and took a seat while we waited. We continued on about what we were going to do after we graduated, and the question I've been waiting to hear made itself present. It was taking it;s time, but it's finally here. I didn't know what to do when it came, though. Nothing I can do, really. "So what about the band?" Adam asked. A silence hovered over us with a look of unsure stares looking back and forth at each other.
"I definitely have no idea what I'm doing." Stan made apparent that he hadn't thought much about his future. I don't blame him. It's a scary thought.
"I got two ideas for what I'm going to do. Either move out and apply to some schools out of state or stay home, go to community college for a year, then leave." I admitted.
"But where?" Adam asked.
"I don't know." Idea's flourished through my mind, but one stuck out. "Southern California?" Adam and Stan looked at me and then stared at each other and returned their gaze's back to me. "Southern California..." Stan said thinking intently.
"What, you guys aren’t considering it, are you?"
"It's an idea." Adam stated. "A damn good idea."
"What? We can't afford it."
"You can't afford it alone". Stan pointed out, "All three of us in a one bedroom apartment could survive, and think." He paused for a second, "Southern California. The place were punk rock thrives. If we go down there, we could make something of ourselves."
"Are you sure?"
"Brian, let me ask you this: What career do you want in life?" I paused and thought for a second. I went over every option in my head and couldn't think of anything. I didn't want to be a scientist, or a doctor, or a lawyer, or even a teacher. I turned back to Stan whose point was reaffirmed. "You see. We all don't have a goal in life and this band is all we care about. So..."
"147!" the women behind the counter shouted. Adam got up and went to retrieve the food while Stan continued with his point. "We can do it, man." He could tell I was still not convinced. "You knew your the best vocalist in this place, and I'm the only drummer who can not only change tempos during a song, but to the accurate tempo we wrote. No other idiot in this town can do that."
"What about Adam?" I asked
"Well... He... He... He owns a bass, but that’s not the point. Okay, we are not the most intelligent assholes around," Adam sat down with our food, "But we can pull this off."
"I'm still not sure."
"Okay." Stan held up his hands in defeat. "It's a fresh idea. Sit on it and lets eat."
We walked out of the restaurant and made our way to Adam's truck. I saw a little white car parked next to it. I immediately recognized it and the girl leaning against the car. It was Mandy. She must have followed us and waited for me to come out from the restaurant. "Uh-oh", Adam muttered under his voice. He never liked Mandy... ever. He was glad that we broke up. She looked at him with disgust and returned he eyes to me. "Brian, can we talk?"
"Alright." I owed it to her. We did go out for 11 months and just broke up abruptly. I walked over to her. She looked at me with her blue eyes and spoke softly. "Could we go to your house and talk on the way." She asked.
"Sure." I turned to Stan and Adam, "Guys, you go along without me."
"Sure, man. See you later." Adam relied
"Later." Stan shouted, "And think about I said."
"Yeah." I waved to them as Adam pulled away in his black truck. It was just me and Mandy alone in this parking lot. I didn't know what words could be said. I had nothing to say to her. "Let's go." She finally said. We got into the car and she started it up and left the parking lot. "So, it's been three weeks and you haven't called."
"We broke up." She stopped the car in the middle of the dead street and stared at me. "Is that what you have to say to me, after all we've been through."
"What do you what me to say?"
"I don't know. I just want you to say something other then the usual shit. It's almost like you have nothing on your mind."
"What if I have nothing to say to you."
"Are you angry at me?"
"No, far from it."
"Then what is it." We started moving again.
"I don't know how to say it without hurting you feelings."
"Just say it."
"I don't love you." She didn't reply right away. She just soaked it in. "I didn't call because I felt that our relationship just ran its course."
"I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"For treating you badly."
"You didn't."
"Well, how was I supposed to know? You never called to say you're sorry and I thought you hated me."
"It's not you. It's nothing you did. You were right."
"What do you mean?"
"I never did fully let you in."
"You mean you were keeping secrets?"
"Yes."
"Like what?"
"Not your typical secret."
"Were you cheating?"
"Nothing like that."
"Well, what is it?"
"I just can't tell you."
"Why not!? You know I love you and I wouldn't think differently about you no matter what you say. Please."
"I'm afraid..."
"Of what?"
"Because!" I hesitated for a moment. I almost blurted it out, "It's something personal."
"I thought you loved me?" She said as tears formed in her eyes.
"I don't. Not anymore, at least."
"Your full of shit." She spoke with sudden anger amidst her sorrow.
"You wanted the truth and the truth is I don't love you. What else is do you want me to say."
"Fine. So this is how it will end?"
"I guess so."
"Goodbye, Brian."
"Goodbye."
I watched her car drive away as I let myself into my house. I walked up the stairs and entered my room. I looked out the window and saw my hometown. It wasn't just Mandy and I who have run our course. It was the whole town and I. I wanted out of here. I wanted out this boring life. The life never worked out for me. I remember my first day of kindergarten to vividly for my own good. It was like that for a long time, but the insults got worse. I got picked on for liking different things, for being in band instead of the football team, because I pushed people away and was always alone because I preferred it that was. When it did finally stop, the damage was already done. I felt alone, hurt and insecure. That’s when my diaper fetish kicked in. I guess it was to take the hurt away... or was it. I still don't think that’s it. The reason is still hiding beyond the reaches of mind and it doesn't look like it will show itself anytime soon. What was left to do. Should I just stay and continue living in this place that has gone so bad for me or..., Then it clicked. It all made sense. I knew what had to be done. I grasped my cell phone that was in my pocket and search through my list of numbers. I pressed dial and listen to it ringing. Then I heard the other end pick up. "Hello?"
"Stan."
"Hey, Brian. What did you an Mandy talk about?"
"Never mind that now. Listen, do you think we could survive in California."
"Definitely. If we pull all the money we have, we could get a small one bedroom apartment and work on getting our name out."
"Are you sure?"
"Positive."
"Alright, I'm in."
"Really? You think so?" I said out of breath
"Dude, seriously. All those other crappy bands have nothing on you guys."
"Yeah, I was really nervous."
"Don't be. It's safe to say you are the best vocalist in this godforsaken town."
"Really?"
"Yeah, every other local band I see is just mediocre or even terrible singers. You bands lucky to have you."
"Yeah, well I'm lucky to have my band."
"Same here. I'm thinking of leaving this place after we graduate and heading to the So Cal."
"Really? What about college?"
"I might go to college there, but who knows. I just want to get outta here."
"Yeah, I know." He started to walk away when I remembered something. "Hey, are you still up for the LA show?"
"If we can make the trip." He and his band walked away and I joined Adam and Stan behind the theatre. We were all tired and didn't want to stay and see the underclassmen perform a cover of some stupid pop-punk band. We loaded Adam's truck with our stuff and left for Jack in the Box. The ride was filled with stupid banter about each others mothers and ex-girlfriends. The guys were careful to bring up Mandy. We haven't spoken in a while and I haven't made any attempts to do so. I guess I just lost interest in her.
Adam pulled into the parking lot slowly and parked. We exited the truck and walked through the empty lot and into the almost empty restaurant. We ordered our food and took a seat while we waited. We continued on about what we were going to do after we graduated, and the question I've been waiting to hear made itself present. It was taking it;s time, but it's finally here. I didn't know what to do when it came, though. Nothing I can do, really. "So what about the band?" Adam asked. A silence hovered over us with a look of unsure stares looking back and forth at each other.
"I definitely have no idea what I'm doing." Stan made apparent that he hadn't thought much about his future. I don't blame him. It's a scary thought.
"I got two ideas for what I'm going to do. Either move out and apply to some schools out of state or stay home, go to community college for a year, then leave." I admitted.
"But where?" Adam asked.
"I don't know." Idea's flourished through my mind, but one stuck out. "Southern California?" Adam and Stan looked at me and then stared at each other and returned their gaze's back to me. "Southern California..." Stan said thinking intently.
"What, you guys aren’t considering it, are you?"
"It's an idea." Adam stated. "A damn good idea."
"What? We can't afford it."
"You can't afford it alone". Stan pointed out, "All three of us in a one bedroom apartment could survive, and think." He paused for a second, "Southern California. The place were punk rock thrives. If we go down there, we could make something of ourselves."
"Are you sure?"
"Brian, let me ask you this: What career do you want in life?" I paused and thought for a second. I went over every option in my head and couldn't think of anything. I didn't want to be a scientist, or a doctor, or a lawyer, or even a teacher. I turned back to Stan whose point was reaffirmed. "You see. We all don't have a goal in life and this band is all we care about. So..."
"147!" the women behind the counter shouted. Adam got up and went to retrieve the food while Stan continued with his point. "We can do it, man." He could tell I was still not convinced. "You knew your the best vocalist in this place, and I'm the only drummer who can not only change tempos during a song, but to the accurate tempo we wrote. No other idiot in this town can do that."
"What about Adam?" I asked
"Well... He... He... He owns a bass, but that’s not the point. Okay, we are not the most intelligent assholes around," Adam sat down with our food, "But we can pull this off."
"I'm still not sure."
"Okay." Stan held up his hands in defeat. "It's a fresh idea. Sit on it and lets eat."
We walked out of the restaurant and made our way to Adam's truck. I saw a little white car parked next to it. I immediately recognized it and the girl leaning against the car. It was Mandy. She must have followed us and waited for me to come out from the restaurant. "Uh-oh", Adam muttered under his voice. He never liked Mandy... ever. He was glad that we broke up. She looked at him with disgust and returned he eyes to me. "Brian, can we talk?"
"Alright." I owed it to her. We did go out for 11 months and just broke up abruptly. I walked over to her. She looked at me with her blue eyes and spoke softly. "Could we go to your house and talk on the way." She asked.
"Sure." I turned to Stan and Adam, "Guys, you go along without me."
"Sure, man. See you later." Adam relied
"Later." Stan shouted, "And think about I said."
"Yeah." I waved to them as Adam pulled away in his black truck. It was just me and Mandy alone in this parking lot. I didn't know what words could be said. I had nothing to say to her. "Let's go." She finally said. We got into the car and she started it up and left the parking lot. "So, it's been three weeks and you haven't called."
"We broke up." She stopped the car in the middle of the dead street and stared at me. "Is that what you have to say to me, after all we've been through."
"What do you what me to say?"
"I don't know. I just want you to say something other then the usual shit. It's almost like you have nothing on your mind."
"What if I have nothing to say to you."
"Are you angry at me?"
"No, far from it."
"Then what is it." We started moving again.
"I don't know how to say it without hurting you feelings."
"Just say it."
"I don't love you." She didn't reply right away. She just soaked it in. "I didn't call because I felt that our relationship just ran its course."
"I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"For treating you badly."
"You didn't."
"Well, how was I supposed to know? You never called to say you're sorry and I thought you hated me."
"It's not you. It's nothing you did. You were right."
"What do you mean?"
"I never did fully let you in."
"You mean you were keeping secrets?"
"Yes."
"Like what?"
"Not your typical secret."
"Were you cheating?"
"Nothing like that."
"Well, what is it?"
"I just can't tell you."
"Why not!? You know I love you and I wouldn't think differently about you no matter what you say. Please."
"I'm afraid..."
"Of what?"
"Because!" I hesitated for a moment. I almost blurted it out, "It's something personal."
"I thought you loved me?" She said as tears formed in her eyes.
"I don't. Not anymore, at least."
"Your full of shit." She spoke with sudden anger amidst her sorrow.
"You wanted the truth and the truth is I don't love you. What else is do you want me to say."
"Fine. So this is how it will end?"
"I guess so."
"Goodbye, Brian."
"Goodbye."
I watched her car drive away as I let myself into my house. I walked up the stairs and entered my room. I looked out the window and saw my hometown. It wasn't just Mandy and I who have run our course. It was the whole town and I. I wanted out of here. I wanted out this boring life. The life never worked out for me. I remember my first day of kindergarten to vividly for my own good. It was like that for a long time, but the insults got worse. I got picked on for liking different things, for being in band instead of the football team, because I pushed people away and was always alone because I preferred it that was. When it did finally stop, the damage was already done. I felt alone, hurt and insecure. That’s when my diaper fetish kicked in. I guess it was to take the hurt away... or was it. I still don't think that’s it. The reason is still hiding beyond the reaches of mind and it doesn't look like it will show itself anytime soon. What was left to do. Should I just stay and continue living in this place that has gone so bad for me or..., Then it clicked. It all made sense. I knew what had to be done. I grasped my cell phone that was in my pocket and search through my list of numbers. I pressed dial and listen to it ringing. Then I heard the other end pick up. "Hello?"
"Stan."
"Hey, Brian. What did you an Mandy talk about?"
"Never mind that now. Listen, do you think we could survive in California."
"Definitely. If we pull all the money we have, we could get a small one bedroom apartment and work on getting our name out."
"Are you sure?"
"Positive."
"Alright, I'm in."
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Going Nowhere, Chapter Three: Heartbreaking Music
The loud distorted guitars and pounding drums blocked out all thoughts in my mind. We've practiced so much, my finger move along the fret board like instinct. The words that I wrote on the paper come out of my mouth and into the microphone without any hesitation or missed lyric. I could feel all the anger that swelled up inside leave my body in my guttural yell. We finish the song with a bang and we let silence fill the room for a second. Before I can say anything, I hear the door open from behind me. I turn to see my younger sister standing with a frustrated expression plastered over her normally pretty face. "Why can't you guys practice in the garage like normal bands?" She growls at us.
"What? Mom and Dad don't mind." I point out
"That because they are at the end of the hall with the door closed."
"Whatever. Just get your beauty sleep."
"Fuck you!" She mumbles it low enough so that I and the others could hear, but not for our parents to hear. She walks into her room next door and slams the door shut. My brother moved out four months ago and my parents let me use his old room as a practice room for my band, The Abominations. I turn to my bass player and drummer who have shocked looks on their faces. "Dude," Adam, gently muting his bass, starts shaking his head, "Your sister is hot when she is mad."
"Yeah, I never thought of that. Maybe because she is my sister!"
"Do you guys think that was a good run through?" Stan, our drummer, asked.
"Maybe we should do "Mexican Watchtower" one more time? I kind of messed up my solo." I admitted. "I slipped up toward the middle, but picked it up toward the end."
"Yeah, I heard that. Maybe we should do "Start Running" again. I got an idea for what to do in that break after the second chorus."
"How does it go?"
"Something like this." He lifts his sticks and starts a pattern between his floor tom and the snare with a couple hits of the cymbals. I've been doing this awhile, but a cymbal crash still makes me cringe whenever I hear it. He ends it and looks at Adam and I for approval. "It sounds cool" Adam states
"Yeah, do you want to take it at the second verse to try it?" I asked them both
"Sure." They both agreed.
11:00 rolls around as Adam leaves for his home. He says goodbye and heads out to his truck. Stan makes himself comfortable on the couch while I grabbed a glass of water. All that singing really makes me thirsty. I set the glass down and leaped onto the couch next to him as he set the TV on a cartoon show for adults. "So, what are we playing for the talent show?" He asked.
"I don't know. We only got six songs, but they are all good songs. What do you like?"
"Maybe "Start Running". I like what you do for the chorus."
"Alright, we'll practice it next time and have it ready for the talent show."
"What about Adam's vote?"
"Ah, he won't care. Besides, I think he would go for that one, too."
"So, I heard you and Mandy broke up."
"Yeah, yeah."
"Seriously, why did you guys break up?"
"She thought I wasn't serious enough. I was always making jokes and stuff."
"Yeah, I know the feeling. Tiffany thought the same about me."
"Tiffany was cute though. I would've straighten up for her."
"Yeah, but she was all hardcore Asian. She was, like, ultra proud of her heritage and she thought I was too white washed."
"What, being yellow is good enough? You have to talk like the loudspeaker at the Tai Hut drive through?"
"I guess so," he chuckled. A short pause occurred, "But, seriously, is that all?"
"Is what all?"
"Mandy. She broke up with you because you told a lot of jokes about stuff?"
"That’s the main thing."
"What else?"
"She thought I was keeping secrets from her."
"Were you?"
"No." I thought for a second about what I had hidden under my bed and wondered if she ever knew.
“She was paranoid.”
“Yeah, but I don’t blame her. Her last two boyfriends cheated on her, and I don’t mean kissing and hugging, I mean full on cheating.”
“Did you two… you know?” He looked at me with a curious expression.
“No. She and I weren’t that interested in that.”
“Damn. Not interested in sex? What else is there in a high school romance?”
“Whatever it was, it’s gone now.”
“So, you wouldn’t want to make up with her.”
“I guess us breaking up was the only option. She could continue trying to make me act serious and let herself fully into my life and I’ll just keep pushing her away.”
“So you don’t love her?”
“Nope.”
“Damn, that’s cold.”
“Whatever.”
We continued on about Graduation and what we were going to do after High School. I had enough money from my job at the movie theatre that I could move out and survive for a while. I got a few scholarships for schools and I was going to pay the rest in loans, but I wondered if I had enough to keep my head above water. I've only worked there for the past 3 months and only had almost $3000 saved up. I was hoping to get some kind of a pay raise, but no luck. I was pondering the idea of staying home for another year while going to school, then moving out, which seemed like the more reasonable solution.
Then there’s my secret. I've been lucky to hide my diaper fetish from my family for this long. Would I be pushing it with another year? When I thought about it, I figured I had no choice. I would either be risk drowning in the real world versus the shame I would feel if my parents found out about my secret. I had to do the most reasonable choice, because I had no choice in the end.
Stan left and I went upstairs to go to bed. My sister was still up on her computer when I past her room. I went into my room and heard my dad snoring through his door. It made me think of how my mom could put up with my bands music so easily. I went into my room, closed and locked the door, and put myself into a diaper. I've been doing this for a while now. It hasn't changed anything and sometimes I'm afraid it could. I try to take it slow, though. I went onto my computer and went into my diaper website. I actually have some close friends I met on the internet. It was nice to be able to talk to someone about wearing diapers and such. One thing I wanted more then friendship was someone to be intimate with and wasn't confused or put off by diapers. It was understandable if they were. I've had three serious girlfriends the past 4 years of high school and not a single one knew about my secret. I was persecuted enough when I was little and I just barely got over it. I didn't need it to start all over again. That was the last thing I wanted. I opened my account and saw no new messages. Then I turned my attention to a girl I've been secretly admiring for the past month and a half. I've haven't talked to her for several reasons. One of which was I didn't know if she was real and I didn't want to ruin my fantasy. So many fake people on the internet, it makes connecting with people this way harder. I just stared at her photo and admired her beauty. Her red hair was so full and her blue eyes were the most beautiful shade of blue I have ever seen. God, I feel so alone
"What? Mom and Dad don't mind." I point out
"That because they are at the end of the hall with the door closed."
"Whatever. Just get your beauty sleep."
"Fuck you!" She mumbles it low enough so that I and the others could hear, but not for our parents to hear. She walks into her room next door and slams the door shut. My brother moved out four months ago and my parents let me use his old room as a practice room for my band, The Abominations. I turn to my bass player and drummer who have shocked looks on their faces. "Dude," Adam, gently muting his bass, starts shaking his head, "Your sister is hot when she is mad."
"Yeah, I never thought of that. Maybe because she is my sister!"
"Do you guys think that was a good run through?" Stan, our drummer, asked.
"Maybe we should do "Mexican Watchtower" one more time? I kind of messed up my solo." I admitted. "I slipped up toward the middle, but picked it up toward the end."
"Yeah, I heard that. Maybe we should do "Start Running" again. I got an idea for what to do in that break after the second chorus."
"How does it go?"
"Something like this." He lifts his sticks and starts a pattern between his floor tom and the snare with a couple hits of the cymbals. I've been doing this awhile, but a cymbal crash still makes me cringe whenever I hear it. He ends it and looks at Adam and I for approval. "It sounds cool" Adam states
"Yeah, do you want to take it at the second verse to try it?" I asked them both
"Sure." They both agreed.
11:00 rolls around as Adam leaves for his home. He says goodbye and heads out to his truck. Stan makes himself comfortable on the couch while I grabbed a glass of water. All that singing really makes me thirsty. I set the glass down and leaped onto the couch next to him as he set the TV on a cartoon show for adults. "So, what are we playing for the talent show?" He asked.
"I don't know. We only got six songs, but they are all good songs. What do you like?"
"Maybe "Start Running". I like what you do for the chorus."
"Alright, we'll practice it next time and have it ready for the talent show."
"What about Adam's vote?"
"Ah, he won't care. Besides, I think he would go for that one, too."
"So, I heard you and Mandy broke up."
"Yeah, yeah."
"Seriously, why did you guys break up?"
"She thought I wasn't serious enough. I was always making jokes and stuff."
"Yeah, I know the feeling. Tiffany thought the same about me."
"Tiffany was cute though. I would've straighten up for her."
"Yeah, but she was all hardcore Asian. She was, like, ultra proud of her heritage and she thought I was too white washed."
"What, being yellow is good enough? You have to talk like the loudspeaker at the Tai Hut drive through?"
"I guess so," he chuckled. A short pause occurred, "But, seriously, is that all?"
"Is what all?"
"Mandy. She broke up with you because you told a lot of jokes about stuff?"
"That’s the main thing."
"What else?"
"She thought I was keeping secrets from her."
"Were you?"
"No." I thought for a second about what I had hidden under my bed and wondered if she ever knew.
“She was paranoid.”
“Yeah, but I don’t blame her. Her last two boyfriends cheated on her, and I don’t mean kissing and hugging, I mean full on cheating.”
“Did you two… you know?” He looked at me with a curious expression.
“No. She and I weren’t that interested in that.”
“Damn. Not interested in sex? What else is there in a high school romance?”
“Whatever it was, it’s gone now.”
“So, you wouldn’t want to make up with her.”
“I guess us breaking up was the only option. She could continue trying to make me act serious and let herself fully into my life and I’ll just keep pushing her away.”
“So you don’t love her?”
“Nope.”
“Damn, that’s cold.”
“Whatever.”
We continued on about Graduation and what we were going to do after High School. I had enough money from my job at the movie theatre that I could move out and survive for a while. I got a few scholarships for schools and I was going to pay the rest in loans, but I wondered if I had enough to keep my head above water. I've only worked there for the past 3 months and only had almost $3000 saved up. I was hoping to get some kind of a pay raise, but no luck. I was pondering the idea of staying home for another year while going to school, then moving out, which seemed like the more reasonable solution.
Then there’s my secret. I've been lucky to hide my diaper fetish from my family for this long. Would I be pushing it with another year? When I thought about it, I figured I had no choice. I would either be risk drowning in the real world versus the shame I would feel if my parents found out about my secret. I had to do the most reasonable choice, because I had no choice in the end.
Stan left and I went upstairs to go to bed. My sister was still up on her computer when I past her room. I went into my room and heard my dad snoring through his door. It made me think of how my mom could put up with my bands music so easily. I went into my room, closed and locked the door, and put myself into a diaper. I've been doing this for a while now. It hasn't changed anything and sometimes I'm afraid it could. I try to take it slow, though. I went onto my computer and went into my diaper website. I actually have some close friends I met on the internet. It was nice to be able to talk to someone about wearing diapers and such. One thing I wanted more then friendship was someone to be intimate with and wasn't confused or put off by diapers. It was understandable if they were. I've had three serious girlfriends the past 4 years of high school and not a single one knew about my secret. I was persecuted enough when I was little and I just barely got over it. I didn't need it to start all over again. That was the last thing I wanted. I opened my account and saw no new messages. Then I turned my attention to a girl I've been secretly admiring for the past month and a half. I've haven't talked to her for several reasons. One of which was I didn't know if she was real and I didn't want to ruin my fantasy. So many fake people on the internet, it makes connecting with people this way harder. I just stared at her photo and admired her beauty. Her red hair was so full and her blue eyes were the most beautiful shade of blue I have ever seen. God, I feel so alone
Going Nowhere, Chapter Two: What Reasons?
The cold, brisk wind battered my face as I rode my bicycle against the wind. The winter is so beautiful, but it's get annoying when your car is stuck under a foot an a half of snow and it can't move. At least it's not too deep. Anymore more snow and I would be stuck in my house for days until I can go out and get my supplies. I needed these things badly. I had to wait until my parents left before I could go out, get them, and return with enough time to enjoy them.
I double check the garage door as I approached. It was closed. That’s a good sign. I slowed my bike down and carefully wheel through the slippery driveway my father and I just shoveled this morning. I gazed at the snow on our two story house and wheeled my bike to the side of my house. I unlocked the gate and wheeled it through and left it there as I took my shopping bag into the empty house. My brother and sister where both gone at their friends and my parents were gone shopping. They should be gone for at least another hour. I entered through the kitchen door in the back of the house. The kitchen smelt of recently cooked pumpkin pie that was sitting on the sink. I wasn't hungry and had little interest in it anyways. My concern was on the bag. I entered into the spotless living room and hurried up the stairs.
My brother's room was closed and had a stop sign hung on the door. He never elaborate on how he got it, but he assured me it wasn't by illegal means. My sister's room, on the other hand, was wide open and messy. She's always out doing something or on the computer talking to friends. I passed the room and enter my room at the very end of the hall, next to my sister's and parents room. I entered and threw my bag on to my bed, locked the door, and quickly peered out the window. No one was home. It was safe. I turned my attention on the bag and it's contents as I removed my jacket, beanie and gloves. I tossed them onto the floor carelessly, slowly approached and removed from the bag what was my only vice for the last five years. The light blue packaging displayed the name of the brand and the product itself. Just by looking at it, I felt like the world was slowly vanishing. All the teasing and the pressure was slowly drifting off into non-existence just by looking at the package. I carefully opened the package and pulled it out. In my hands was all the comfort and security I desired. With it, nothing could hurt me. I held a thick, white adult diaper.
At first, someone might think, "Why is a diaper so comforting to you? Isn't that for kids?". I would understand and agree. While it is strange, it helps me return to a time before the world turn cold. It relaxes my mind and assures me that no matter what, the world is not always as cruel as it seems. I felt better just by holding it. I couldn't get it on fast enough. I hid the remaining diapers under my bed and unfolded the one in my hand. I laid it on the bed and removed my pants and underwear. I sat down onto the diaper and could feel the soft padding caressing my skin. I stretched out the back of the diaper and pulled the front over my exposed body. I lifted my t-shirt to my chest so it wouldn't get in the way. I pulled the left side of the back of my diaper up over the front and fastened the bottom tape first. I repeated the process on my right side and then pulled the top tapes on both sides into place. I could feel the snug diaper against my body. I quickly got under the covers of my bed and lied there for a short period of time. I just wanted to spend a few short moment with the dry diaper on.
Another facet of my vice is my urge to use the diaper. Now, many people would already be surprised that I wanted to wear a diaper, but all would just be floored by my choice to use it for it's purpose. Why? I don't know why. It's so hard to explain, I can't even figure it out. I don't even care right now. I let my brain go as I felt my bodily fluids exit my body onto me. The warmth does me in and I feel the world is all gone. Nothing is here except me in my diaper. For thirty minutes, I lied there alone. I decided that was enough for today and I got up from my bed and removed the soiled diaper.
I jumped onto the couch and grasped the remote into my hand. The soiled diaper was hidden in the trash can outside under the kitchen trash bag. Nobody ever checks the garbage, so I'm safe. I switch on the TV to a movie I've seen before, but I don't pay attention to it. My mind it thinking about my reasons. Why do I wear a diaper? What are the reasons behind it. Up until this year, I haven't had the slightest idea, but this year in my psychology class, I learned about the human mind and Professor Fraud. His research made me think about the satisfaction I get from wearing diapers.
Could it be sexual? I did have an erection, but I didn't pay any attention to it. I guess it was just reacting to my mind and how it felt. Could it have something to do with my personal life? Not really. I get along very well with my family and have no problems with anyone close. What about my social life? I felt maybe the kids were what drove me to this desire. I remembered how my first day of school was. It wasn't like anything my parents or my brother had explained to me. It was bad. My social status hasn't improved much since than, either.
My parent were always concerned about that, too. I remember them talking with my teachers and my social interaction with other kids. My teachers were adamant on figuring out what was going wrong, but I already knew the problem. They wouldn't understand, though. The kids could sense my weakness and my difference and they feasted their growing cruelty by praying on me. It all started with that one girl, Samantha Walters. She was the catalyst to which the other children were guided along the path. Every joke was the same, whether it was my curly hair, my tendencies to be alone all the time and my passion from music.
I remember when I picked up the clarinet. I enjoyed hours of playing that instrument, but the kids saw it as activity for wussies and believed only in sports and acceptance to their inner circles, to which I was cast away from. All because I didn't want to try. I saw no reason. They were cruel and I didn't want to associate with them. Why change myself so they would accept me. It made no sense, even at my age. My train of though was soon broken by a loud bang. I turned my head to the door. My dad's head peered in and looked for me. "Hey, Bri. Could you go upstairs for about a half hour?" He said enthusiastically
"Sure, Dad." I responded rather quickly and headed back upstairs. I didn't want to know what I got for Christmas because I liked to be surprised. I entered my room, closed the door and went on my computer for the rest of the night.
I double check the garage door as I approached. It was closed. That’s a good sign. I slowed my bike down and carefully wheel through the slippery driveway my father and I just shoveled this morning. I gazed at the snow on our two story house and wheeled my bike to the side of my house. I unlocked the gate and wheeled it through and left it there as I took my shopping bag into the empty house. My brother and sister where both gone at their friends and my parents were gone shopping. They should be gone for at least another hour. I entered through the kitchen door in the back of the house. The kitchen smelt of recently cooked pumpkin pie that was sitting on the sink. I wasn't hungry and had little interest in it anyways. My concern was on the bag. I entered into the spotless living room and hurried up the stairs.
My brother's room was closed and had a stop sign hung on the door. He never elaborate on how he got it, but he assured me it wasn't by illegal means. My sister's room, on the other hand, was wide open and messy. She's always out doing something or on the computer talking to friends. I passed the room and enter my room at the very end of the hall, next to my sister's and parents room. I entered and threw my bag on to my bed, locked the door, and quickly peered out the window. No one was home. It was safe. I turned my attention on the bag and it's contents as I removed my jacket, beanie and gloves. I tossed them onto the floor carelessly, slowly approached and removed from the bag what was my only vice for the last five years. The light blue packaging displayed the name of the brand and the product itself. Just by looking at it, I felt like the world was slowly vanishing. All the teasing and the pressure was slowly drifting off into non-existence just by looking at the package. I carefully opened the package and pulled it out. In my hands was all the comfort and security I desired. With it, nothing could hurt me. I held a thick, white adult diaper.
At first, someone might think, "Why is a diaper so comforting to you? Isn't that for kids?". I would understand and agree. While it is strange, it helps me return to a time before the world turn cold. It relaxes my mind and assures me that no matter what, the world is not always as cruel as it seems. I felt better just by holding it. I couldn't get it on fast enough. I hid the remaining diapers under my bed and unfolded the one in my hand. I laid it on the bed and removed my pants and underwear. I sat down onto the diaper and could feel the soft padding caressing my skin. I stretched out the back of the diaper and pulled the front over my exposed body. I lifted my t-shirt to my chest so it wouldn't get in the way. I pulled the left side of the back of my diaper up over the front and fastened the bottom tape first. I repeated the process on my right side and then pulled the top tapes on both sides into place. I could feel the snug diaper against my body. I quickly got under the covers of my bed and lied there for a short period of time. I just wanted to spend a few short moment with the dry diaper on.
Another facet of my vice is my urge to use the diaper. Now, many people would already be surprised that I wanted to wear a diaper, but all would just be floored by my choice to use it for it's purpose. Why? I don't know why. It's so hard to explain, I can't even figure it out. I don't even care right now. I let my brain go as I felt my bodily fluids exit my body onto me. The warmth does me in and I feel the world is all gone. Nothing is here except me in my diaper. For thirty minutes, I lied there alone. I decided that was enough for today and I got up from my bed and removed the soiled diaper.
I jumped onto the couch and grasped the remote into my hand. The soiled diaper was hidden in the trash can outside under the kitchen trash bag. Nobody ever checks the garbage, so I'm safe. I switch on the TV to a movie I've seen before, but I don't pay attention to it. My mind it thinking about my reasons. Why do I wear a diaper? What are the reasons behind it. Up until this year, I haven't had the slightest idea, but this year in my psychology class, I learned about the human mind and Professor Fraud. His research made me think about the satisfaction I get from wearing diapers.
Could it be sexual? I did have an erection, but I didn't pay any attention to it. I guess it was just reacting to my mind and how it felt. Could it have something to do with my personal life? Not really. I get along very well with my family and have no problems with anyone close. What about my social life? I felt maybe the kids were what drove me to this desire. I remembered how my first day of school was. It wasn't like anything my parents or my brother had explained to me. It was bad. My social status hasn't improved much since than, either.
My parent were always concerned about that, too. I remember them talking with my teachers and my social interaction with other kids. My teachers were adamant on figuring out what was going wrong, but I already knew the problem. They wouldn't understand, though. The kids could sense my weakness and my difference and they feasted their growing cruelty by praying on me. It all started with that one girl, Samantha Walters. She was the catalyst to which the other children were guided along the path. Every joke was the same, whether it was my curly hair, my tendencies to be alone all the time and my passion from music.
I remember when I picked up the clarinet. I enjoyed hours of playing that instrument, but the kids saw it as activity for wussies and believed only in sports and acceptance to their inner circles, to which I was cast away from. All because I didn't want to try. I saw no reason. They were cruel and I didn't want to associate with them. Why change myself so they would accept me. It made no sense, even at my age. My train of though was soon broken by a loud bang. I turned my head to the door. My dad's head peered in and looked for me. "Hey, Bri. Could you go upstairs for about a half hour?" He said enthusiastically
"Sure, Dad." I responded rather quickly and headed back upstairs. I didn't want to know what I got for Christmas because I liked to be surprised. I entered my room, closed the door and went on my computer for the rest of the night.
Going Nowhere, Chapter One: Right From The Start
I knew I was different. Everyone could tell. It was like some kind of obvious sign that I couldn't see, but everyone around me could not just see it, but know it off the top of their heads. Right from the start, it was there. Just hovering right over me like an odor you can't wash away. I knew it was there because they could see it and made sure they let me know it was there. I remember it like it was yesterday.
Kindergarten was frightening. To a child who had nothing else in these world but his mother, being away from her was frightening and kindergarten made me realize this fear. It's not necessarily my mother, but someone in general. A fear of being alone in the cold, harsh world where no one gave a damn about a lost child, searching for this enigma called home. Right from the start, I needed someone make everything alright.
The car stopped and the engine died away as I peered my eyes out the window. There were other little children standing in front the door, waiting for something. My mother got out from the driver side and went all the way around the back seat passenger side to let me out. The door opened and I realized how gloomy of a day it was. Dark clouds blocked the sun from shining through and showed a color that seemed familiar, almost as if this was some form of deja vu. My mother grabbed my hand and led me to the door. I stood with other little children as my mother watched from a distance. Why was she far away? What was everyone waiting for?
Suddenly, the door opened and an elderly woman peered out. She was wearing a green blouse and tan pants. The decades she has seen showed on her face quite visibly and her hair was short and silver. "Why, hello, Children." She spoke to us. She exited the doorway she had appeared from and gestured us to go inside. Like obedient cattle, we did as we were told, or in this case expected to do. I didn't have to go in, but I was expected to go or else I would be made to. Children never have much choice on their life and how it is supposed to run. Of course, it's obvious why it is like that. We all complied as a mob of twelve or thirteen kids entered the room. I looked around as soon as I entered. The room was big colorful. The walls were decorated with all assortments of animals and settings to create what the elderly woman called a "safe learning environment", which to a child meant nothing. Only the parent were concerned with that sort of thing. To my left were cabinets with hooks in them. Next to them were some little boxes neatly stacked one on top of the other. These were called "cubbies", which housed personal belongings while we spend our time here.
In the very center of the room stood four large book selves, each with their back to each other and facing the four walls of the room. The two closest to me had tables and chairs in front of them. The table were light brown and very clean. The entire surface was bare with the exception of a few blue boxes neatly lined in the center of the table. Across the two cabinets adjacent to these were sink with an orange surface and towels and a black board with a mat in front of it. The elderly woman guided us to the mat and had us all sit down with our legs criss-crossed. She began talking as our parents remained at the front door. Every so often, I would turn my head and look at the door and the group began to dissolve away. It was as if the parent were leaving. Why? Don't they care about us?
My mother was still here, though. It made me feel safe inside. I felt she would never leave. My feelings, however, were wrong. I turned my head, expecting to see the face of the woman who guided my for the last five year looking back at me. She wasn't there. She left me like the others. How could she do this to me? Why? Was I bad? Tears began rushing to my eyes and flooded my face. The other children were staring back at me, as if to say, "What's wrong with him?". The elderly woman quickly remedied the situation by holding me in her arms and continuing with the lecture.
The tears stopped and I was again alone, this time used to my surroundings. It was now time for us to go outside for what our teacher affectionately called Playtime. The teacher, who name was Mrs. Anderson, led us to the door opposite from where we came from and let us go out to the playground. It was big and very spread out. Two sand pits were split from each other by a cement walkway that led to a gate entrance. Where it led was impossible to tell because it was covered. It the sand pit to my left was a slide and a jungle gym. To the right were swings. Though they seemed ever so inviting, the circumstance changed my attitude on the situation. I sat in the corner on the concrete in the shade and retreated into myself. I didn't want to talk to anybody. This was not the case, however. Two little girls, one blonde, one brunette, approached me. Both of them were wearing similar dresses and had their hairs in pony tails. The brunette, with an bossy expression, spoke out to me. "Are you done crying, crybaby?". The other dignified her insult with wild laugh. "What's with you hair?", she continued, "It looks like poodle!", she roared at the expense of my curly black hair. They gave it to me a few more times and then left to go play a game.
That day, I learned what school was. For nine months, six hours every weekday, I had to come here to gain an education so that I could function in the real world. I was also supposed to expand my social skills by making friends and talking to people. All this for 13 years straight. If this was the torture I have to put up with, the next 13 year will be the worst years of my life. I know this right from the start.
Kindergarten was frightening. To a child who had nothing else in these world but his mother, being away from her was frightening and kindergarten made me realize this fear. It's not necessarily my mother, but someone in general. A fear of being alone in the cold, harsh world where no one gave a damn about a lost child, searching for this enigma called home. Right from the start, I needed someone make everything alright.
The car stopped and the engine died away as I peered my eyes out the window. There were other little children standing in front the door, waiting for something. My mother got out from the driver side and went all the way around the back seat passenger side to let me out. The door opened and I realized how gloomy of a day it was. Dark clouds blocked the sun from shining through and showed a color that seemed familiar, almost as if this was some form of deja vu. My mother grabbed my hand and led me to the door. I stood with other little children as my mother watched from a distance. Why was she far away? What was everyone waiting for?
Suddenly, the door opened and an elderly woman peered out. She was wearing a green blouse and tan pants. The decades she has seen showed on her face quite visibly and her hair was short and silver. "Why, hello, Children." She spoke to us. She exited the doorway she had appeared from and gestured us to go inside. Like obedient cattle, we did as we were told, or in this case expected to do. I didn't have to go in, but I was expected to go or else I would be made to. Children never have much choice on their life and how it is supposed to run. Of course, it's obvious why it is like that. We all complied as a mob of twelve or thirteen kids entered the room. I looked around as soon as I entered. The room was big colorful. The walls were decorated with all assortments of animals and settings to create what the elderly woman called a "safe learning environment", which to a child meant nothing. Only the parent were concerned with that sort of thing. To my left were cabinets with hooks in them. Next to them were some little boxes neatly stacked one on top of the other. These were called "cubbies", which housed personal belongings while we spend our time here.
In the very center of the room stood four large book selves, each with their back to each other and facing the four walls of the room. The two closest to me had tables and chairs in front of them. The table were light brown and very clean. The entire surface was bare with the exception of a few blue boxes neatly lined in the center of the table. Across the two cabinets adjacent to these were sink with an orange surface and towels and a black board with a mat in front of it. The elderly woman guided us to the mat and had us all sit down with our legs criss-crossed. She began talking as our parents remained at the front door. Every so often, I would turn my head and look at the door and the group began to dissolve away. It was as if the parent were leaving. Why? Don't they care about us?
My mother was still here, though. It made me feel safe inside. I felt she would never leave. My feelings, however, were wrong. I turned my head, expecting to see the face of the woman who guided my for the last five year looking back at me. She wasn't there. She left me like the others. How could she do this to me? Why? Was I bad? Tears began rushing to my eyes and flooded my face. The other children were staring back at me, as if to say, "What's wrong with him?". The elderly woman quickly remedied the situation by holding me in her arms and continuing with the lecture.
The tears stopped and I was again alone, this time used to my surroundings. It was now time for us to go outside for what our teacher affectionately called Playtime. The teacher, who name was Mrs. Anderson, led us to the door opposite from where we came from and let us go out to the playground. It was big and very spread out. Two sand pits were split from each other by a cement walkway that led to a gate entrance. Where it led was impossible to tell because it was covered. It the sand pit to my left was a slide and a jungle gym. To the right were swings. Though they seemed ever so inviting, the circumstance changed my attitude on the situation. I sat in the corner on the concrete in the shade and retreated into myself. I didn't want to talk to anybody. This was not the case, however. Two little girls, one blonde, one brunette, approached me. Both of them were wearing similar dresses and had their hairs in pony tails. The brunette, with an bossy expression, spoke out to me. "Are you done crying, crybaby?". The other dignified her insult with wild laugh. "What's with you hair?", she continued, "It looks like poodle!", she roared at the expense of my curly black hair. They gave it to me a few more times and then left to go play a game.
That day, I learned what school was. For nine months, six hours every weekday, I had to come here to gain an education so that I could function in the real world. I was also supposed to expand my social skills by making friends and talking to people. All this for 13 years straight. If this was the torture I have to put up with, the next 13 year will be the worst years of my life. I know this right from the start.
Inside My MusicBox
Hey, this is MusicBaby and this is my blog where I am going to post all my stories. My stories are fictional and are AB/DL oriented. Enjoy.
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