When I was a kid the other side of the street was populated by kids from the Catholic school. The school itself was down the street a ways. Said kids were the meanest, most evil, kids on the block. The oldest one was a real thug and made it unpleasant to go outside on many sunny days. His siblings were similarly trashy but in the way that toadies who fear their leader are. They were all I knew of Catholicism for many years. I simply assumed because they were such bastards that the whole school was populated with bastards. I vaguely remember seeing the school let out sometimes and thinking it would be a good idea to hide until all of them passed by. So I hid in the bushes. I don’t think I ever actually encountered any of the students from that school apart from the ones that inhabited the rats nest across the street. Some years later the eldest boy got expelled from the Catholic school and they moved way down the end of the street where I rarely went. He ended up in regular school and apparently someone knocked him on his ass one day when he tired to pull his regular bullshit. After that his power was broken and he wasn’t as much of a problem. He tried to bully me on my way home one day but I told him to get out of my way and he did. I don’t know why because he stood well over a head taller than me at the time.
The only other time I encountered Catholic kids was walking home in the snow one day. A gang of them started throwing ice balls at me, but I just kept walking. Even when they hit me in the face. They apparently weren’t satisfied with my reaction and surrounded me. Then they started shoving slush in my face and down my shirt and pants. I just endured it until they got bored. It’s one of the first times I remember being so mad that I wanted to really hurt someone. I’d never encountered them before and never saw them again. A lot of that memory has faded with time, but I still remember the leader. Curly blonde hair, freckled face, sneering at me, yelling at me to fight back.
I don’t even know if I ever told anyone. Ha ha… Remembering that made me start crying. Not like crying outright but tears started running down my face without the corresponding emotions happening. This is an odd feeling. It’s like part of my brain wants to do one thing but the main part just doesn’t care enough to bother. Being a kid was bullshit. Everyone was so mean. If we hadn’t moved away I’d probably have killed myself. Moving to a bigger town gave me the gift of anonymity. I could just fade into the background. Small towns do not favor the shy and sensitive.
Now I remember why I don’t think about that stuff anymore. It makes my brain burn. None of that matters anymore, it’s too far away. I wonder how many of the kids from back then are dead now. Statistically there have to be a few. I only really wonder about one person from back then, and only because she’s the only one I want to apologize to. I bet she doesn’t even remember me.
Let’s leave the past where it belongs.
I think the new star wars might come to our shitty little theatre this weekend. I’d really like to try and see it, but I’m not sure I can handle sitting in the crap seats for that long. I’ve already had almost the entire filmed spoiled just by doing the things I normally do. The only thing left at this point is to actually see the recordings of light. I also really don’t want to watch it with the Teen. She is very difficult to watch movies with, plus star wars is not something she cares about so any regard for the experience of others will go right out the window. I just want to go to the cinema like the miserable little shit that I am and enjoy the pretend universe of one of the luckiest hacks in all of history.