He had escaped high school in one piece. The very idea of not having to return to that institution was surreal. No more bullshit. No more teasing. No more alienation. He can start over. Participate more often in things. He didn't know what the -things- were but he knew that they would be different.
Anything was better than the constant barrage of put-downs. Constantly being on the defensive because he didn't know who was going to fuck with him that day, that moment, that year.
He remembered in grade school how it all began...although, admittedly, he was a bit foggy on specifics--it after all had been a long time ago. The first memory he had was around fourth grade. He didn't remember who he fought but he remembered it was at the end of the year. Why did kids always do that...wait til the last day of school to jump, or settle an argument? Or payback for something they probably didn't even remember? He guessed that's why they invented Summer School.
Really! What teacher wants to spend their summer teaching the same kids they taught during the regular school year? It almost defeats the purpose, right? You just have to spend more time with the little demons. "Oh," he thought, "...that's mean."
He thought about a lot on the trip up to the school. His new life was beginning and it was exciting. He couldn't remember packing his bags but there they were in the trunk of the car. All stuffed and full of his life. Short though it may be, he collected quite a few things. His collection of comic books he left behind at home. With strict instructions for them not to be touched. He knew he was lucky if one crate was still intact when he came home for a visit. His brothers would probably wait a couple of weeks to go through and lay claim to a collection of comic books he'd had since he was a young child. They'd go through it just to show they could...brother's, go figure. They'd take a few and leave the rest remembering to arrange the books in the same order they were found in...again, they never knew when he would return home for a visit. Not for a long while, He was sure they would think.
Those days were a distant memory for him, one he wished he could re-visit, if not for just one moment.
Time to move on, he thought.
Fast Forward in time to the present. He has many stories he'd like to share. To extend a helping hand to those who will follow...how he wished he could be there....in the future. He didn't want to sound morbid but the truth of the matter, no matter how pessimisstic is sounded, he was not guaranteed another week of life. There was nothing to fear at the moment but he had lived with the notion of not surviving the Millenium for so long, the actuality of the situation was, he had out-lived just about everyone in is life.
He had acquired an expertise in "things" not commonly practiced. Observations that are generally taken for granted were of astronomical proportions to his state of being. A gift to some and a curse to others. The weight of which is not known by the bearer until the moment of awakening. He took a breath.
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