Navel gazing nonsense

armalyte · Mar 30, 2021

Got around to typing my old written stuff into the computer.

You could say everything, or everything that came to actually matter for my life, began in the cloakroom that morning in second grade at Annero school.

It was one of those classic cloakrooms with metal hangers and worn out wooden benches, that probably hasn’t changed for a hundred years, though by now itʼs probably been repainted - the late Seventies were infatuated with garish colours that rarely fit together, shit-brown, traffic-sign-red, vomit-green.

I was a way-too-clever and way-too-clumsy kid with a strange accent coming with a bad lisp, a vocabulary that was half-unintelligible for a normal ten-year-old and thus pretty shunned by my schoolmates, though I had some friends. You might have called my friends faithful in-so-much as that they kept being my friends even though the tough kids kept beating me up day after day, but never to the point where theyʼd considered standing in the way. It wouldnʼt have helped anyway. I could defend myself to some extent since I was naturally big, but that didnʼt matter either - more foes to throw into the fight were abundant, the whole school was full of them.

My first memories were of milk packages, television and books, not necessarily in that order. As a three-year-old I had to read the texts on the milk packages since my parents, vaguely motivated by a desire to moderate my intellectual profile, had decided to confiscate all my books. Those texts were understandably lightweight, and I donʼt remember much of any television shows except for the news, which were still often broadcast in black and white showing clips of American (and other) jets bombing the shit out of some backwards third-world nations. The first broadcast I can remember discussed the war between China and Vietnam - a tedious affair where neither part seemed willing to divulge much about the proceedings, thus reporting was rather sparse - and I honestly pretty much only remember the titles of the children’s shows, not the content.

Due to my obsessive urge to read absolutely anything I got my hands on, the book-theft-strategy utterly failed, and finally, at my fourth birthday my father gave me two proper, unabridged books by Jules Verne - “The Secret Island”and “20,000 Leagues Under The Sea”. Those two books pretty much shaped my view of the world and still influence me deeply. I used the first one as a pacifier blanket, slept with it, never giving it away and repeatedly having to repair it with electrical tape.

Put shortly, I was a bright boy with grave social defects. That might be important to understand as we go back to that damn cloakroom.

This being in second grade I was eight, and lots of the boys had started talking about girls. I had no idea what it was all about and had zero interest, though at times, in order to blend in or seem cooler than I was, I might half-heartedly have tried to admit that this girl or that girl was pretty - which I might have been sincere about, in the same way you could appreciate the beauty of a vase or a kingʼspoodle, hardly more. Honestly, girls annoyed me. They seemed illogical, they were preoccupied with silly stuff and above all, they were impossible for me to talk to.

Then I saw her.

This wasnʼt a new girl. Iʼd seen her every day at school for almost two years andIʼd never had any reaction. Her name was Helena, long, brown curly hair, and commonly regarded to be beautiful.

However, this day, this very second, all changed. It was like a key that had turned in my brain. Suddenly, all that“irrational” stuff meant nothing, and the social barrier had turned into an obstacle Iʼd be spending the next year to conquer. Suddenly, I understood.

But… a veil had been pulled over my eyes. It wouldnʼt be withdrawn for more than fifteen minutes at a time, every time Iʼd shot my sperm into a girl, only to slowly close again, pulsating, black or red like blood. I havenʼt been lazy about it, but all in all, thatʼs not many weeks to show for it.

My future dreams suddenly felt like something from another life, like a fairytale.I wouldnʼt properly understand it for decades, but Iʼd already pledged my life to the rush.
Click to expand...

Badly translated.

shootER · Mar 30, 2021

You want this in The Workshop?

armalyte · Mar 31, 2021

I dunno I guess.

shootER · Mar 31, 2021

GR---->TW

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Navel gazing nonsense

armalyte Unsafe for everyone.

shootER Insubordinate...and churlish Administrator

armalyte Unsafe for everyone.

shootER Insubordinate...and churlish Administrator

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Navel gazing nonsense

armalyte Unsafe for everyone.

shootER Insubordinate...and churlish Administrator

armalyte Unsafe for everyone.

shootER Insubordinate...and churlish Administrator

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