Together and apart

One advantage of being the fat girl is you can blend into the background and get a bird's eye view of, well, everything. So I watched all sorts of relationships come and go throughout high school mostly. It didn't seem the thing to do in junior high although I do remember, as a schoolyard supervisor in the 6th grade, having to bust up kissing games amongst the first graders.

What I saw the most of was possession. "Love" would take over and the person would disappear. The most prominent case for me involved a boy in my inner circle. When he started dating a girl outside the circle, we parted and made room for her, but as their relationship developed, he pulled away. We only saw him in the class we all shared, he moved into a locker near hers and everytime we saw him our buddy looked absolutely miserable. At least compared to how he acted with us. But - he was in love.

I was horrified. This was love? I looked around at the boys in my circle and was not attracted to any of them. My heart did break for one though when he found out the girl he wanted was dating a boy who owned a cherry red Corvette. Our guy drove a truck. But it wasn't long before it was cherry red, too.

Crushed

Noticing the other sex is a right of passage. Although I am told I was "engaged" at a young age to a neighbor in our hometown, nothing came of it and my first moment/man was a very blond young man in the fourth grade. He was somewhat obsessed with drawing tanks. I would "decorate" them. Kind of warped but then so are most of the things done by one sex to impress the other.

The boy I gave my heart to, of course unbeknownst to him, in the fifth and sixth grade recently came back into my life. Electronically. He's about three hours away. We had a nice conversation and he tossed out an invitation to come see him. He hasn't spoken to me since. Who says childhood is over?

I went through most of the school years with mad crushes for all sorts of boys. Most had some sort of athletic ability and a Cassidy-esque mop of hair. The only other thing they all had in common is they were never really much interested in me. I like to think it was not without effort on my part. I am uncomfortable flirting with someone I really really am attracted to, most likely because I know there's not a hope in hell. I do better in that regard if I am moderately interested in the person. However the first time I gathered steam to make a bold attempt, the object of the flirtation campaign laughed. A year later he was dead. I am not sure why I mention the latter because he was troubled and it wasn't my fault. He didn't want the attention or the possible comfort or connection being with me might offer. But I always remember he laughed.

Behind the picture

You're not going to find a picture here. That's not the point I want to make. It's not important what I look like. It's not even important what you look like. Well it is, but only because "we" made it that way. I am trying my damnedest not to care.

I do have a picture on my Facebook account. Through their "Social Me" application the most frequent tag I get is "happy." Now through this application you can thank people for calling you something. I don't thank any of the people who call me happy. I get what they are saying. The picture was taken at a great time in my life. I was with good people enjoy them and what I was doing. Or at least trying to.

But, as with most things, I did become unhappy with my life at that time and what was going on. But, as it was not the first time, it did not surprise me. I think it would surprise me if I found true bliss (should it actually exist). So why would someone want to go through life unhappy? It's a great artistic muse. Beyond that, I somehow think bliss exists once you step off the cliff. And I don't like to fall. Figuratively or literally. So I have cloaked myself in suit of protection and that is why I choose not to show you my photo. Whatever you see in it - will it be happiness like the others? - it's not the truth. This is.