All my dreams fulfilled
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Original - Misc › Non-Fiction/True Stories/Autobiographical
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
4
Views:
3,147
Reviews:
3
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Original - Misc › Non-Fiction/True Stories/Autobiographical
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
4
Views:
3,147
Reviews:
3
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of non fiction. Where possible - and where appropriate - permission has been granted from any people or their descendants to be included in this story. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Continuing prolouge.
I met the boy when I was 12, and even now, the exact circumstances are foggy. An MSN group, maybe. I remember one of our first convorsations... I had a gigantic crush on *insert celebrity here* and he claimed to have met him - this was understandable, because they were both Australians. Australia was a much smaller country in my imagination, back then. We formed a bond over his experience of meeting this actor, and we soon shared and discovered new interests. He typed out the instructions for using a tampon for the first time when I got my period and the information pamphlet was missing - He used his mother's information. He let me rant and rave about my stupid cousins, my stupid grandmother and the stupid trailor I was living in. He helped me when I was diagnosed with a mood disorder. He was there whenever I needed an unbiased ear, or should I say, eye.
We were both going through pueberty; he was 14, I was 12, and we were both discovering the cruelties and beauty of life. He sent me a picture, and at first, I was shocked. This kind, wonderful boy that helped me through the hardships of Junior High was morbidly obese. But his bright blue eyes were shocking. There was a kindness and a harshness in them that I still can't figure out. I'm sure he had a similar reaction to the first picture I sent him; riddled with my first pimples, greasy blonde hair and green eyes that just couldn't look into the lens.
I was one of those children who revelled in getting a new email address every week, and he was the only contact that remained throughout this manic unhappiness with my identity on the internet. We talked all the time. I told him about Canada and the blistering cold I endured in Northern Saskatchewan, and he told me about the balmy, humid summers in Queensland, Australia. He became my best friend, someone who didn't know anyone else I knew and I could just talk to without holding back.
We were both depressed, both being outcasted from society due to our social flaws. One day, when he was 16, he wanted to end it. He stayed online, waiting for me. When I logged in, he told me he loved me. This blatent honesty, out of no where took me by suprise. I told him I loved him too... I lied, and he still doesn't know. He cried with relief, and put the gun back in his mom's boyfriend's car. I was fourteen and feigning love with a stranger from the internet. I didn't know I had saved his life.
From then on, we began to chat more... intimately. We never did the cyber sex thing, but we would send kisses over our instant messenger, and we trusted each other enough, after 2 years of chatting, to give each other our real life addresses to send letters. I smothered my first letter to him with lipstick kisses, and loopy handwriting that was nothing like my own hybrid of printing and cursive. We began to fantisize about finally meeting, and after a year, I meant it when I told him I loved him.
I was 16 years old and I shaved my head bald. He told me I had lost all sex appeal, and that he hated my new look. I told him that I did it to remember my grandmother, and that I needed to do something for myself. We didn't talk for about six months, after my hair grew out. He shyly told me he had a girlfriend when we did talk again, and I told him I didn't care. It broke my heart... so I started to date. Every single kiss I shared with any boy, I imagined was him.
High School was a blur for me. Life was getting better, I was dealing with the mood disorder in a much healthier fashion, until the doctors put me on a different medication. I turned into a suicidal zombie, and was put into the psychiatric ward for a week. My father came and visited me and I told him it was his fault. It was his, and it was also my internet boy. The nurses wouldn't let me see my new friends, and they wouldn't let me use the phone. They'd let the man I had learned to hate in, but they wouldn't even let me send a letter to Australia. When I got better, I went back online and told internet boy that I still loved him. I wanted to meet him and I wanted to kiss him in the flesh. He told me that the first time he told me he loved me, he was going to kill himself because he assumed that no one else in the world ever would love him.
When I reached Grade 11, he had found a girl over there and they moved in together. He stopped talking to me unless it was to tell me how much he felt changed. I thought he turned into a douchebag. I couldn't stand his arrogance and his holier than thou attitude towards me. When they broke up, he came to me and begged for forgiveness. He told me it was me he was thinking about the whole time. I told him I loved him still, but I was also in a relationship-- that I soon called off.
Graduation finally came, and I was awarded the highest award with a prize of $1000. When people asked me what I wanted to do after high school, I told them I was going over to Australia, and my new job, plus my prize money was going to help me achieve this.
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I picked up a second job as my flight date drew nearer. I would go into the movie theatre at 5 in the morning and clean under the seats, mop and vacuum the floors, clean the toilets and wash all of the windows and mirrors until 11 in the morning. I would sleep for a few hours, wake up, then go back to the movie theatre to serve the public the food and drinks I would have to clean up the following day. 5 AM 11 AM 6 PM 11 PM 5 AM 11 AM 6 PM 11 PM... day in, day out, except for tuesdays. My one day off during the week, for three months. I was a concession girl for 6 months before that, and as April 25th drew nearer, I had the money I needed for the ticket. After a few unseen expences, I realized I wouldn't have enough money to actually LIVE while over in Australia... My wonderful Grandfather lent me $3000 to see me through the 3 months I'd be living with a random man I met off the internet, 6 years before.
The flights were terrifying, and the only thing I wanted to do was go back home. I was terrified. What if he didn't like me? What if I don't understand him? What if I don't like him? What if... what if.. what if... it was all bearing down on me like a hailstorm for the 24 hours it took for me to fly over there. Los Angelas airport scared me, Calgary scared me... and Brisbane the most of all.
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We were both going through pueberty; he was 14, I was 12, and we were both discovering the cruelties and beauty of life. He sent me a picture, and at first, I was shocked. This kind, wonderful boy that helped me through the hardships of Junior High was morbidly obese. But his bright blue eyes were shocking. There was a kindness and a harshness in them that I still can't figure out. I'm sure he had a similar reaction to the first picture I sent him; riddled with my first pimples, greasy blonde hair and green eyes that just couldn't look into the lens.
I was one of those children who revelled in getting a new email address every week, and he was the only contact that remained throughout this manic unhappiness with my identity on the internet. We talked all the time. I told him about Canada and the blistering cold I endured in Northern Saskatchewan, and he told me about the balmy, humid summers in Queensland, Australia. He became my best friend, someone who didn't know anyone else I knew and I could just talk to without holding back.
We were both depressed, both being outcasted from society due to our social flaws. One day, when he was 16, he wanted to end it. He stayed online, waiting for me. When I logged in, he told me he loved me. This blatent honesty, out of no where took me by suprise. I told him I loved him too... I lied, and he still doesn't know. He cried with relief, and put the gun back in his mom's boyfriend's car. I was fourteen and feigning love with a stranger from the internet. I didn't know I had saved his life.
From then on, we began to chat more... intimately. We never did the cyber sex thing, but we would send kisses over our instant messenger, and we trusted each other enough, after 2 years of chatting, to give each other our real life addresses to send letters. I smothered my first letter to him with lipstick kisses, and loopy handwriting that was nothing like my own hybrid of printing and cursive. We began to fantisize about finally meeting, and after a year, I meant it when I told him I loved him.
I was 16 years old and I shaved my head bald. He told me I had lost all sex appeal, and that he hated my new look. I told him that I did it to remember my grandmother, and that I needed to do something for myself. We didn't talk for about six months, after my hair grew out. He shyly told me he had a girlfriend when we did talk again, and I told him I didn't care. It broke my heart... so I started to date. Every single kiss I shared with any boy, I imagined was him.
High School was a blur for me. Life was getting better, I was dealing with the mood disorder in a much healthier fashion, until the doctors put me on a different medication. I turned into a suicidal zombie, and was put into the psychiatric ward for a week. My father came and visited me and I told him it was his fault. It was his, and it was also my internet boy. The nurses wouldn't let me see my new friends, and they wouldn't let me use the phone. They'd let the man I had learned to hate in, but they wouldn't even let me send a letter to Australia. When I got better, I went back online and told internet boy that I still loved him. I wanted to meet him and I wanted to kiss him in the flesh. He told me that the first time he told me he loved me, he was going to kill himself because he assumed that no one else in the world ever would love him.
When I reached Grade 11, he had found a girl over there and they moved in together. He stopped talking to me unless it was to tell me how much he felt changed. I thought he turned into a douchebag. I couldn't stand his arrogance and his holier than thou attitude towards me. When they broke up, he came to me and begged for forgiveness. He told me it was me he was thinking about the whole time. I told him I loved him still, but I was also in a relationship-- that I soon called off.
Graduation finally came, and I was awarded the highest award with a prize of $1000. When people asked me what I wanted to do after high school, I told them I was going over to Australia, and my new job, plus my prize money was going to help me achieve this.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
I picked up a second job as my flight date drew nearer. I would go into the movie theatre at 5 in the morning and clean under the seats, mop and vacuum the floors, clean the toilets and wash all of the windows and mirrors until 11 in the morning. I would sleep for a few hours, wake up, then go back to the movie theatre to serve the public the food and drinks I would have to clean up the following day. 5 AM 11 AM 6 PM 11 PM 5 AM 11 AM 6 PM 11 PM... day in, day out, except for tuesdays. My one day off during the week, for three months. I was a concession girl for 6 months before that, and as April 25th drew nearer, I had the money I needed for the ticket. After a few unseen expences, I realized I wouldn't have enough money to actually LIVE while over in Australia... My wonderful Grandfather lent me $3000 to see me through the 3 months I'd be living with a random man I met off the internet, 6 years before.
The flights were terrifying, and the only thing I wanted to do was go back home. I was terrified. What if he didn't like me? What if I don't understand him? What if I don't like him? What if... what if.. what if... it was all bearing down on me like a hailstorm for the 24 hours it took for me to fly over there. Los Angelas airport scared me, Calgary scared me... and Brisbane the most of all.
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