My Memories

This is a small segment of my life called the beginning of hard times. My mama always sheltered me even though she was sick most of her life physically and mentally. Regardless, she did the best she could in order for her two children to survive. I have an older brother his name is Lynn. He left home when he was eighteen feeling worthless and unloved. You see, he was the quiet one, the one who made all A’s and a local member of the high school football team (even though they never won any game). He was from another relationship that my mama had previously from her home town. His biological father was nothing but an alcoholic and deviant. Mama did the best she could to raise him as a man after our father left. But, like they said, it takes a man to raise boy. Mama never went to a game or any school function. It was understandable because she couldn’t sit in a hard chair for that long. I understood that but, I don’t think that he really got the full picture. He was just a boy looking for love and acceptance from his parents, that’s all. Well, like I was saying, he left home at the age of eighteen. This happened without any warning or explanation. He pursued his mission to become a truck driver.
That left me as the only child living in the house. Lord knows I had issues of my own. The major problem that I had was that I was fat. And in high school that was a meal ticket to disaster. Plus, I attended a predominantly white high school. That was even better. But, one thing that changed any thought that I had about America was the fact that I lived in a military town. This meant that social prejudices and ill -fated preconceived notions about the different races were not that widely practiced. I fit right in, besides that summer before my freshman year I listened to nothing but Rock& Roll, Alternative, Punk, and Metal, basically anything that would help me fit in. But, I was still overweight. I used food as a substitute for the people I lost. My mama wasn’t the type of person to use the L word ever. She ran the house with an iron fist. The first bible scripture that I ever learned was “Spare the rod, spoil the child” and believe me when I say we were not spoiled. But, despite the chunk that I had on me I still managed to have a large group of friends. I loved to get to know different people in my school. I loved to hear the stories of their lives. I always wanted to know what made them tick. If anyone was ever in crisis I was there. I loved being needed, just the simple fact of living like a chameleon made me happy.
By the time I graduated I was a whole new person. My mama finally let me out of the house to hang out with my friends. I never had a chance to do that before because I grew up as a Jehovah Witness. And my mama did not believe in the whole social life situation. But now I had freedom. And I experienced everything that I thought I needed to know. Around that time my best friend Joel came out of the closet. That was a bitter sweet time for me due to the fact that I had the biggest crush on him. I felt like that boy was my soul mate. But I was happy still to know that he was free of living his life in a metal box. We did everything that we thought that gay people did. We didn’t know any better, hell we were new to this world in every aspect. We hung out at every type of book store known to man. Basically, everything from adult to Books-A-Million. We loved meeting different type of people. And at these locations we basically did. We went to local gay clubs and the ones out of town. We had a blast!
annshanae69 annshanae69
31-35, F
May 17, 2012