Sleepless night

10 after Midnight here, and I can't sleep. My mind refuses to shut down.

Does anyone remember that kid in high school. You know the one who was constantly picked on, the one who was beat on, called a fag, tormented to tears. The kid that this
was written for. I remember because that kid was me. This isn't a poor me post. It's just a reflection. I was beaten, dragged, through the dirt, all because I was different. I didn't give up, even though there was times I came close. Some nights I was holding a razor blade to my wrists, wanting to cut, but never did. I persevered, I graduated high school with honors, went on to college to obtain my A.A. graduating cum laude, and then continuing on to get my A.A.S. in Information Technology graduating once again with honors.

But those scars never left. The pulling me down to the point I no longer had any self esteem is still carried on these shoulders. It's not as bad as it was, back in high school, but it lingers. I still have 0 tolerance to hear someone being called a Fag. That word builds an anger and rage in me, when used as a way to hurt, because for four years it was a word used against me. It was a word that instilled a hate in me for a few people. People I still have no use for, and people I will never forgive.

So why do I bring all this up, why dwell on all this? I'm not, and no longer wish too. I guess right now I'm in a place where I'm trying to heal these wounds. I still find myself looking down when someone walks by me at work to avoid eye contact, looking up on to greet the person. I have corrected myself a few times on this, but its a hard habit to break. I'm still quiet, not very talkative, something else I'm trying to work on. Opening up is one of the hardest things to do I've learned, because that fear, the fear that someone will walk all over you still lingers there.

I guess right now I'm reflecting on this is because my son is scheduled to start kindergarten next year. He too is different. For those of you who haven't read my blog before, my son has autism. I've tried to teach him early, not to take crap from other kids. Do not be afraid to be yourself, and never, NEVER, let someone walk on your dreams. I know how evil and vindictive kids can be, having been a victim of their cruelty. And I don't wish my son to have to deal with that. I want him to make the right moves, stand up for himself, and not be the whipping boy I was. It's a lot harder to get that through to him, because he has autism. But I have seen how he interacts with other kids, and when one gets out of line, and intrudes on him, he's not afraid to put a punk in his place. (My friend's and even I have given him the nick name pimp, hes been in school since he was three, and has had a girlfriend ever since). lol, yeah he's nothing like his father.

Posted by elvendarkmage on Tue May 20, 2008 @ 1:31 am EDT | 2 Comments