Alone in love

Summer

Sunday 12th September, 2017

In England, there are four main sections of the education rollercoaster; Primary and secondary school, College and University. By the time I was 16, I had finished secondary school, applied for colleges and waited for my results to come through. The gap between the two was a staggering three months. Three fucking months! Imagine all the things you could do in three months.

Quite soon after I finished school, we had our prom, and the party afterwards, however after that week, I began to realise how much of a loser I really was.

Shortly after, my mates and I had decided to go camping. We weren't gay, we just wanted somewhere to go without the prying eyes of our parents watching over us. One of us had a field, only a short drive away from where we lived. It was perfect. Far away enough that any noise we made would not be heard for miles away, but not so isolated that if one of us had a heart attack, we wouldn't be completely fucked.

The important thing to remember about this writing, is not about the extraordinary and exciting, life-changing events that I experienced, but more about how I feel about my life, and what's going on right now. And at this point in the time, at the camping, I was still quite happy and relaxed, I mean I was surrounded by boys of course.

We had sat round the fire, one by one blurting out utter nonsense, taking the piss about one of the fat girls in our year, giggling about the one in a wheelchair the year below. We were rather nasty, but we were never completely serious, we weren't monsters. Although we did discuss one of the year 8s, a young lad called Tim, who had been knocked over by a car only a few months ago. He wasn't dead or anything, but I think he's quite slow in the head now. Matty, as heart as big as a golf ball, had asked me a question early in the evening:
'James, why did the chicken cross the road?'
'Fuck off mate, leave me alone' I had responded tiredly, yet not seriously. 'Dunno pal, why did he cross the road?'
He replied with a grin wiped around his face 'Because Timmy stopped the traffic'

One of the guys had brought a huge pack of beer with him, enough for all of us to have at least one. We still felt young, and fairly irresponsible while we sipped the revolting Carling. Little did we know that someone from our school had already been arrested for drug possession, but if we did know, it wouldn't have bothered us, we felt irresponsible and that was more important to us than any encounter with the police.

I still can't understand why people my age like the taste of alcohol. From my first sip until my latest, it has all tasted like horse piss. When I was younger, and I felt ill, my parents sometimes gave me Penicillin, a vile medicine that's smell still brings back painful memories of my childhood. Since then, beer is the closest I've tasted to it. I remember sitting round the campfire, slurping it down, before gagging quite soon afterwards. I made sure my mates didn't see, but I tipped most of it away, before triumphantly holding it above my head, shaking it upside down to prove that I had conquered the 1.5% beverage. The chances are, most people my age don't like the either, but the harsh reality is, Coca Cola doesn't get you drunk. Whenever I see someone  drinking a beer, smiling while holding it ceremoniously in their outstretched hand, I always think that they must live a shattered life of lies. Pretending to enjoy something that tastes like a fluid that has coming out the rear of a cat, they surely don't have any real friends, just people who think they are someone else. I would stand there, happily, knowing that I probably had a better life than this fraud, until five minutes later, when they would have their hand shoved down someone's pants, and I returned to my life of normality, to the sound of Aggers and Tuffers on TMS at Lords.

In fact, I used to think girls and parties and beer were overrated, who needed them when Warne was turning the it at right angles, Anderson was hooping the new ball, and Rooney was scoring volleys from the half way line for fun. After the camping, sport took up a huge part of the rest of the summer, and I was grateful for it. So while my friends were out partying, I would be sat inside watching 'Match of the day' or the highlights from the test match. After being to my first ever party, I realised there was no where else I'd rather be than watch a West Brom side batter Burnley 4-0. After that however I realised that the only connection between my sporting life and my social one, was that they got in the way of each other, and although before, a result for the Albion was the best thing possible before, now it was irrelevant, all that mattered was if I had got pissed the night before. I think this will be my plan the next time West Brom lose; just drink. Drink until I have forgotten the result, or the day, or even the week, and if I'm lucky, I may even forget everything, living without a care in the world.

I could go on about the rest of the events of the summer, but as I've said before, there's really no need. All you need to know is by the end, the months had gone, and I was just about to start college, hopefully looking for a new start with girls, alcohol and parties.

Of course, it won't just be as simple as that. I'm hopeful for a fresh start, yet already preparing myself for failure, disappointment. And of course, my summer did not consist of just blankly staring at a wall, or at my phone. My mind wasn't blank, I thought about pre-season, school, what college might be like. They were all insignificant though, just mere distractions from what I really wanted. I never even realised what I was missing, although I felt strangely empty. I still do now. In the end I knew why I was feeling bored, not unhappy, but just dull.

Girls.