My Story

I suppose the best place to start is form the beginning. I was born July 10, 1997, in the Worthington Hospital, and weighed in at 7 pounds, 11 ounces. My parents wanted to name me Casey as a joke. I am glad they didn’t.
My earliest childhood memory is rolling down the stairs from the top step, going so fast I bounced off the opposing wall. I spent most of my time at my Grandmother’s house… Practically raised by them.
In 2001, my sister was born, also the year I started Kindergarten. I was a year ahead of anyone at that time. A year younger than anyone else.
In 2003, my great-grandmother, Lucy Jacobsma, passed away in a Sioux Falls nursing home due to stomach cancer. I was very fond of her, and I am almost glad she died. The last month or so of her life was passed in a lot of pain an suffering. I remember her puking into a small container. She couldn’t even talk. At this point, I was crying. I was a bawling second grader who couldn’t handle the sight of a dying woman. I told myself that it would be the last time I cry for someone or something. So far, so good. She was in an unbearable amount of pain. I think she was ready and willing to die. Maybe it was her time… I wish she was still here. I wish I could forget that… There are a lot of things I wish I could forget.
Elementary school was uneventful… ‘til third grade. I decided that I should get some friends instead of walking around alone. I still enjoy going on a walk alone every once in a while. I decided to befriend the local hicks… Not a good idea. In my gullible-ness, I was told to walk up to the teacher, Mrs. Mertes at the time, and tell her I was going to going to “commit suicide.” That was a dumb idea indeed. I didn’t even know what it meant.
By the time fourth grade rolled around, I was doing good in the social situation. I was kind of popular, and had more than a couple people I would call my friends. Erin Swenson, Jessica Loerts, and Kramer Grimes if I remember correctly. Then there was my other group of friends. Reid VanWyk, Jacob Mantiz, Justis McCarty, and Lee Smith.
In fourth grade we took a trip to the Lewis & Clark center in Sioux City Iowa. By this time, Jacob had put a very bad influence on me. I was using the F word in excess and learned that there is a bird… On your hand… That sometimes flew when you decided that you don’t like someone. Except this time, I decided to flip said bird out of the back of the bus window.
Mrs. Heilman was the single worst teacher I have ever had. She was terrible. She was mean, and blamed me for everything that went wrong. Not kidding. So, when she saw the bird flying, she was outraged. That was probably the last time I talked to Jacob. And the start of my compulsive lying that plagued me in the next five years.
I went home that evening, with a note from dear old Mrs. Heilman. I decided to hide it and not tell my parents about it. The weekend passed, and I was starting to feel guilty about it. But I never told. Then the Monday, she called my parents asking if they knew about what happened. That is when I found out that lying was bad. I got two months grounded and two months no recess, as my mother requesting. And that was the end of that.
As the year progressed, as did my lying. I can’t say I liked to do it, but I couldn’t help it. It is hard to describe. When this started, everyone gravitated away from me. I was alone again. I liked it.
Dalton Schiphoff has been my best friend since the day we met in preschool. But, in sixth grade, I think he had enough of my little lying games. He started to hang out with Matthew Davids, Samuel DeBoer, Wayne Salinas, and Donovan Miller. They didn’t like me at first. At all. Mr. Boone, the guidance counselor, told me not to hang out with them anymore. Mom didn’t like them at all either. All odds were against me. So I beat them and stayed friends with them. I gained their friendship, and that’s all I needed.
Then, my grandfather passed away. I was devastated. So was my grandmother. Due to some major family issues, we got nothing. No pictures, nothing to remind us of him. I could care less about any money he had. I still have nothing to remember him by except a couple of half-assed pictures. There is nothing of his left. It was all sold on eBay by my remorseless uncle. I wish I could forget this too, but I can’t. It bugs me. Always. I shouldn’t let it.
Seventh grade came, me being hated by everyone except those in that little group. Same as eighth. That summer, I started my high school band. Now starts the things that I wanted to never tell anyone. Ever. But I guess I have to. I have to tell someone, and the time is now. I just hope you won’t think any less of me for what I tell you. I just want to forget about the whole thing. Forever.
Her name was Gloria. Nice name, isn’t it? I could say it all day. Gloria. Gloria Gloria. Gloria. Gloria Villanueva. She was a very nice girl, even though we hated each other the first time we met.
It was the fourth day of band camp. August 18th, also the day her and her boyfriend at the time were celebrating their one year anniversary. We practiced in front of the bus barn. I was doing something wrong, and she turned around and told me, “You freshman, do you have any idea what you are doing? You step off with your left foot, and then you take the next with your right.”
I said, “I’m sorry, but I don’t listen to anyone. Especially bitchy seniors.”
She turned away and didn’t say a word to me, until the first football game, that is.
I was talking to Eddie Villanueva, her younger brother, and she came up. She was in a good mood, and decided to talk to me for some reason. Eddie left, and it was just her and I. We walked to the elementary school park, because neither of us like football or any other sport. We sat on the swings, just talking. Her and I, alone that night, looking up at the stars, ended up telling our life stories. I lied about mine. I made it interesting so she’d find me impressive.
We started to talk constantly, she said she wanted to date. I didn’t. I didn’t like her like that until later. Then her boyfriend started to give her some trouble. He stopped talking to her. They worked at the same place, and he wouldn’t utter a word to her there. One night, she asked him why. He said he was down “in a funk.” She broke up with him, and cried all night. She missed two days of school. She came back and showed me pictures that he sent her. Pictures of him cutting his arms and wrists with a knife or scissors. I told her that she needed to report it. Her parents took care of it already. He was going to be sent away to a mental institution.
She didn’t seem to care after the two days she was gone. I should have known that she was a terrible person then, but I was young and stupid. It may have only been a year ago, but in that year I’ve grown up beyond my age. Spiraling into the thoughts of adulthood. That’s when I started to like her. A lot. We hung out constantly, texting until 2 a.m. or later on most nights. I was falling for her, slowly but surely.
We had our Hardware Store Christmas party coming up, that year in early December. I decided to inviter her, and ask her out after the dinner. She said she was excited. I was. We were going to meet there a few minutes before, but she never came. She never bothered to show up. I sat at my little table and waited for her. I didn’t bother calling her, I knew something had happened… I had a feeling.
She came to school the following week and told me that her grandpa died. I believed her against my better judgment. I was an idiot in love. Those two things do not go well together: love and ignorance.
She graduated early. She didn’t bother to say goodbye to anyone. She just left. I found out that she lied to me. About everything. She didn’t want to date me. I figured. I didn’t think twice about it. But the thing that hit home was that she was going to cheat on me with a 33-year-old crackhead. I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t say anything to her. I was to hurt. I haven’t heard from her since, by the way. The last thing she said to me was that she would see me later. She lied when she said that too. She could have lied about everything. I got to thinking about it, in my new adult-like way, and I got really depressed. I was so depressed that I withdrew my fate and became atheist. It wasn’t the thought of losing a dating opportunity, it was the thought of losing my best friend that felt like a punch in the crotch. I hated being lied to. I couldn’t believe that it hurt so much. I don’t lie anymore. That is the reason I don’t lie. Then I started dating Amber Henning.
She was crazy for me. I wasn’t to crazy for her, but I wanted a friend. I dumped all mine for Gloria. She wasn’t the best girlfriend. I wasn’t the best boyfriend at the time either. We dated, hardly seeing each other, for three months or so. Three of the longest, worst months of my life, due to her. And Gloria.
We broke up soon enough. I had a lonely summer. Then the New York trip was fast approaching. I wasn’t looking forward to it. And I was right… but not for my original reasons.
Lora Lindberg, now there is an interesting name. I knew her since fifth grade, I have never called her a friend, and never told her anything. But I’ve been best friend to her since 7th grade, so I guess that means something, no matter how small. I hung out with her friends, Shannon VanBeest, Shannon Michelson, Dalton Peterson, Ellie Klaassen, and Erin Swenson. They told me what she had been saying. In NYC, I found out that she was telling everybody that her and I did terrible acts of a sexual nature. I was so mad at her I chewed her out at 3 in the morning on a bus that was taking us home from New York. I being lied about. I didn’t like that either. I ended up telling her to rot and burn in a non-existent hell. I still haven’t forgiven her for it. She still lies about me, but I am getting used to idiots spreading rumors by now, so it doesn’t bug me.
In August, the new band year started. I met Charlie Palsrok-Wegter, John Bugay, and April Perry. They are my best friends. April is actually my girlfriend, and I love her very much. I know we fight sometimes, but that doesn’t mean anything, because our love can overcome it. She is the most beautiful person I have ever seen. I hope we can grow old and have the time of our lives getting there. I love her more than I can describe in words. I may be 15, but I think I have found my soul mate a little early. I am glad my life, for the first time in a long, long, time, is finally going to be good. The past may hurt, but you have to put it behind you, or you will never move on from what was. You can’t change it, so you shouldn’t let it dwell on it.
mkeningersoms mkeningersoms
18-21, M
1 Response Jan 19, 2013

Hi MK,
You said it, even we can't do anything about our past, our future is in our hands. It is up to us to do what needs to be done. Stay strong, man.