---------------------------------------------------
angeline ; madison avenue
---------------------------------------------------

I remember my first day of high school as if it were four years, sixty two days, three hours and twenty-minutes ago. I remember being abnormally tall and eccentric and nervous. I remember feeling excluded. I remember the way everyone banded together with old friends who knew friends who were friends of the kids standing next to them.

I remember wishing I’d been stupid enough to smoke pot so I could meet someone, anyone, other then the kids from my old elementary school.

My first day revolved solely on dreading P.E, dreading report cards, dreading the rumors I’d heard of being shoved in lockers and thrown into trashcans by the scene seniors and cheerleading juniors. On top of that, I was terrified of making friends. Terrified.

I remember the following weeks flying by, the way everything moved so quickly I was afraid of stumbling over my own two feet, something I have a habit of doing when I’m too far ahead of everyone else. I remember the group of friends I’d made, the close knit crowd of people I could say belonged too.

My freshman year was everything but what the rumors said. By the time I was in my junior year, I was far more relaxed.

That all changed one day, during Spanish, when Jessica, a friend of a friend, sat with me, because we only knew each other and everyone else had banded together already. I was busy staring at one of the guys, I can’t remember who, though.

“Hey, Angeline,” she’d said, smiling a little.

She was cute, with freckles scattered across the bridge of her nose and pigtails in her hair. Not drop dead gorgeous or anything; I’d already seen one particular girl at our school who fit that description, but she was cute.

“Hey.” I nodded in her direction and didn’t protest when she pulled out the plastic chair next to me and sat down, book bag landing on the tiled floor with a soft ‘thump’. The girl in front of me, Emma or something, spun in her seat and smiled at us. I didn’t know her, but Jessica did, so they talked and I stared at that guy and they talked some more and I remained utterly oblivious until they got on the topic of sexuality.

“I think it’s horrible how people discriminate against others just because they’re gay or bisexuals. I mean, the idea of it is a little odd to me, but I have nothing against a person with different preferences then mine.”

Emma was talking about how she had a gay friend who was always picked on and Jessica was talking about how she had bisexual and gay friends and they were no different from anyone else. I suppose I should’ve kept my mouth shut and continued staring at that boy, the one with no name nowadays, instead of joining in. I suppose I shouldn’t have brought the matter up, expecting them to be so understanding when they barely knew me.

I suppose I shouldn’t have done a lot of things that day back in junior year, that day I got the reality check of my life.

See, earlier that year, I’d come to the conclusion that I was, in fact, bisexual. I didn’t tell anyone except my uncle, because my parents were borderline homophobes and my friends probably would’ve mocked me for it. My uncle simply didn’t care.

“You are what you are,” he’d said, half under the sink. “Hand me a screwdriver, would ya?”

I guess I was hoping to tell someone without the scandalized looks and the nervous fidgeting. Jessica and Emma weren’t the ones to tell though.

“You’re bisexual?” Jessica had said, sounding somewhere between surprised and horrified. Emma didn’t say anything, just looked at me blankly, like I’d grown another head.

“Yeah,” I muttered, suddenly realizing that I was making a big mistake. “I think so, at least.”

Jessica looked at me hard and I blushed. Emma still wasn’t saying anything.

“How can you ‘think’ you’re bisexual? You either are or you aren’t.”

I scowled. I was fourteen and confused and she was questioning me as if I were supposed to have it all figured out.

“You wouldn’t get it,” I grumbled, propping my head up on my hand. “You don’t just wake up one day and say ‘I’m bisexual.’ It’s something that you realize a little bit at a time. I’m still young. I could just be going through a goddamn phase. Or maybe I’m not. I don’t know. That's how I’m not sure.”

The bell rang and I was gone, out the door with my backpack swung over my shoulder.

I didn’t even glance backwards to catch a glimpse of what’s his face.

I guess now, when I look back on it, I shouldn’t have been so trusting. I was a pretty mature kid and I’d seen the documentaries and read the articles and knew all about the violent acts against gays and bisexuals. I was naïve though. I was looking for someone to talk to without having it hung over my head until I died.

Jessica didn’t sit next to me ever again after that. She didn’t even glance my way. Emma didn’t talk to me either. I suppose that makes them hypocrites, for preaching about being indifferent, then turning around and shunning me because of it, but we were all so stupid back then.

I still don’t talk to Jessica. I don’t talk to any of my old friends actually. They all found out eventually. I don’t think I was ever teased so much in my life.

I hang out alone now, wandering around during lunch hour and sitting in the back during class. I see girls holding hands with their boyfriends and it doesn’t bother me like it used to, back when I was awkward and fourteen.

I’m confident in myself. I will make it through the last year of my high school days and I will be okay.

His name was Colten, by the way.

He was the only boy I ever liked.

-----------------------------------------------
a/n : wrote this in ten minutes.
it's been stuck in my head for forever.
i need to practice my first person writing, so, voila.
it's nothing amazing, but i like it.
review?
------------------------------------------------