When I write these, understand that I typically leave off the ‘follow the lights with your eyes and check in with your body. How does it feel? Where does it feel the sensation?
This week at Dr. Dragonfly’s, we went back to our normal topic. The session before I went back to Chicago was really a waste. I went back to the little six year old boy that had been bounced out of the back of his father’s truck because he was driving too fast, but it was my fault bc I was standing up. (I wasn’t-I just didn’t weigh anything.) This time, though, it centered on going back to school.
If I remember right, Mrs. Reed, my first grade teacher, came over to the house and gave me all of the nice cards my classmates were forced to write. While I was reading them, she talked to my parents about my return to the classroom. I was not part of this conversation and had no idea what they were talking about. I was busy reading the cards.
The next day, I went to school. I was greeted with a mixture of apprehension and curiosity in equal measures. Mrs. Reed did reintroduce me so that the class would settle down a little bit. She told them what had happened and that I was in bandages because of an unfortunate accident. That kind of calmed the situation a little bit, but you know how elementary kids are, they’re cruel. They just stared at me. By recess, I was ‘the mummy.’ Mrs. Reed tried to redirect them, but being different in elementary school is absolutely not a good thing.
I was ‘the mummy’ for a good week or two. The other kids were content with that. I didn’t much like it, but if it kept the peace…Eventually, a shift occurred. Someone got it into their tiny brain that they could catch whatever I had, so they spread a rumor and all of a sudden 3/4th of the class didn’t want to be anywhere around me. Mind you, we’re talking about 22 kids. Mrs. Reed tried to tell them, but it didn’t work. Elementary kids are cruel.
That lasted for a couple of weeks. I’d go home crying every day. It was a horrible experience and all I wanted was for my mom to say that it would be ok and that she’d go talk to the teacher. All I ever got was the it will be ok and don’t let the other kids get to you so much. I’m six and can count the number of people who want to be around me on one hand. I wanted to be protected. My dad was even better. Are you crying again because kids don’t like you at school? You’re there to learn, not make friends. Stop crying before I beat you with my belt. That was helpful too. I’m not protected at home and I’m not protected at school. I’m six; I’m on my own; I’m absolutely powerless.
A couple of months, or so, later, the gauze had to come off. Once the gauze came off, you could see all 276 stitches. We had to put an antibiotic ointment on them two times a day. It made them nice, shiny and visible from the ISS. I went from being ‘the mummy’ to ‘frankenstein.’ I had to admit, I liked the mummy better. That was really horrible. There were all sorts of nasty jokes and comments outside the teacher’s hearing. No one, even my friends, wanted to be around me then. It was grotesque. Even after the stitches were out, I still had to put the ointment on for a few weeks to allow the sites to heal. It was just a horrific experience for me all the way around with no help, guidance or just anyone, other than Mrs. Reed to say that it would be ok. The other problem with that too was that since no one would interact with me, the only other person left was Mrs. Reed, so not only was I a mummy and frankenstein, but I was also teacher’s pet. (As if I had a choice)
Dr. Dragonfly asks me, “What do you want to do to them. If you had the power, what would you want to do to them to make the fucking suffer like they have you?” (I love her. She swears with me.) I’m six! I don’t have any power. She said remember what you did with your dad when you kicked him through the window/wall and all the way into the fresh cow poo pasture with the crazy bull? Imagine what you want to do to all of these people who at the age of six have already impacted your life. It has to come from inside you. You have to take the power. It can’t come from me.”
This one didn’t take me a lot of though. After watching the little lights go back and forth and feeling the vibrations in my hands, I looked at her with that cold, evil laugh I sometime get and said, I know exactly what I want to do to them.
You know the movie ‘Carrie,’ right? I’m going for ‘Carrie 2.’ CD are much more lethal that LPs and 45s. Every year Kindergarten and 6th Grade graduation are held in the gym. All students have to attend and most of their parents do as well. There wouldn’t be any blood on me, but I’d make sure that there were more than enough CDs to fill half of the stage. During the middle of the ceremony, once the 6th graders have all sat down, I’d force the doors closed to the entire gym and stage entrances. Then I’d walk to the center of the stupid gopher in the middle of the gym and yell ‘Fuck all of you!” in a voice that would be similar to a stun grenade. I would raise my arms and CDs would go flying everywhere. (There would be shields around the 4 or so kids I liked.) I would them release a second volley of CDs. I’d look up at the lights, break the bulbs and turn them into flamethrowers as I exited the gym.
Once I exited the gym, I’d walk about 3 blocks up to main street and obliterate the three churches that exist. As I passed the intersection, the gas station would blow. Once I got to the blinky light, the other two gas stations would blow. I would then magically transport myself to the other town in the district. All of the high school doors would also be locked. The florescent lights would be set to bake. The gas station, of course, would blow. Two of the three churches would go. The last is my home church. It’s congregants and preacher would be magically transported to the site, but unable to do anything as they watched their precious church very slowly turn to ash.
Excellent! She said.
cazandoconejos 