"Wake up you fucking asshole!" I'd know that voice anywhere. It's my fucking cunt of a dad who by no surprise is doped up on drugs and alcohol, "Shut up! That's the 7th time you've screamed at me from the bottom of the fucking stairs! I've been awake for hours!" How often I wish my dad was the kind of dad who would creep into your room and gently rock you until you were awake. I wish my dad was never abusive to me and treated me like a human being not just a piece of shit all the time. My Mum died a few years back leaving me deserted with this son of a bitch who somehow is my father. I see no resemblance in him or any of his lame excuse for a family in me.
"I am Brian Artz, a tall seventeen year old boy going through a lot. My mum's dead; I'm bi-sexual and because of that, I've been bullied for more than eight years of my life. I fear every day that I face," that's different today. I watched an inspirational documentary last night about sexuality and now, I just feel more sexually secure.
After my quick pep talk, I rush to my mirror, whack some gel into my chocolate brown bangs that hang in my sapphire eyes, bound down the stairs at a rapid pace to the front gate before my "dad" can yell anymore abusive shit at me. I don't know much about other people's lives, but mine is bloody hard. My mum is dead, I have a dick of a father and I'm bullied at school everyday because of my sexuality. I've had to put up with bastards calling me a faggot all the time and it's so hard. Growing up, I was never into sport and getting dirty, but I was into dancing and I all my friends were girls. I've been called a pussy and a fag my whole life, I've never had support to help me get through until today.
I pushed my way out of the bus and found myself out the front of Yongegrove Academy, where I spend 7 hours and 15 minutes of each week day. "Hey fag, how's your boyfriend?" That was Carter Brady the coolest guy in Yongegrove. I've dealt with him my whole life. I've learnt to ignore it. I struggle through the masses in the hallways until I reach my own locker. It's easy to pick out because it's the one with the same goddamned words written all over again, pussy, faggot and fag, scrawled across the cold metal.
As I waddle past all the assholes, something catches my eye. It's a new poster on the school bulletin. It's for an after school re-creation program, "Fuck that. What kind of retard...", but as I read on, it explains how beneficial it would be to people with any insecurities, sexual insecurities.
As I walk off, struck by what I'd just read. A re-creation program for people like me and people like my friend Tom. Where as I'm bisexual, he's homosexual. We understand each other. As I stroll away from the bulletin, I see Tom being haggled by Carter Brady and his crew. In my head, I imagine me bashing up that fucked up cunt, but instead, I walk over like a civilised person and I grab Tom by the hand and pull him away. "Thanks. Those bastards were really rubbing it in that time. I'm glad you weren't there to have to be involved,"
"Why! You know I would have helped you. I'm used to deal with assholes, but you're not. Thanks,"
"For what?"
"For always being there for me. Your a shoulder to cry on and a hand to hold when the road gets rough,"
I don't know why, but I feel some chemistry brewing between Tom and I. I've never felt so safe around someone before. Besides my mum.
Tom and I have History first up. We were learning about America's gay liberation. Tom and I are the only 2 interested or even half interested at times. We started to get bored when it was talking about how gay liberation spread over the world.
It's been ages since I last talked to Tom. It was kind of awkward after the incident a month ago. We've been avoiding each other in the re-creation classes. I re watched the documentary and worked up enough courage to do something I should have done a long, long time ago.
"Hey Tom. Do you want to go out to dinner tonight? It's on me."
"Is this a date?"
"Yeah,"
"Fuck yeah!"
