A Different Form of Beauty
folder
Original - Misc › Non-Fiction/True Stories/Autobiographical
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
6
Views:
947
Reviews:
3
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Original - Misc › Non-Fiction/True Stories/Autobiographical
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
6
Views:
947
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.
Of J and Traumas
Still alive and still well. No 'piss off' or 'other unpleasant names'. Safe and sound.
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Chapter 4:Of J and Traumas
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Now J was an exceptional person. She was strong minded, shy, boring and hilarious all at the same time. She wouldn’t, and still won’t, accept an opinion if it didn’t have any concrete or rational or deeply thought through work behind it. The philosophy teacher loved her the moment she decided to debate the theme ‘Epistemology’.
She arrived in the middle of second trimester, you see. She was shy when it wasn’t about philosophy, because she thought she wasn’t particularly good at every day conversation. She was hilarious as soon as one broke through the shyness, and one would always be witness to her sarcastic, satiric and painfully true remarks about some things, and some terribly out of subject things that would come out of her mouth out of the blue.
Our PE teacher hates her. Either because J detests and does not agree with any aspect of cheerleading and the tumble-around-the-gym-and-show-your-lingerie-to-the-world exercise (she calls it) or because comes up with existential questions that tear her throat apart. But I must say that they are really brave to tumble about like that… a bravery to be admired. She just threatened to use me as a target of she ever wanted to practice tennis.
She may hate sports, but she would never pass the chance of using a racket. Which is was I wisely shut my mouth and obeyed her. And lastly, she was boring when it came to her choice of… painting. She had no taste, at least in my opinion. I told her so. She asked me if I could justify it. I said no. And got away without serious physical harm. She hit my ego pretty hard there.
She can crumble anybody’s ego. Well, more crush and destroy than crumble. Something I had subconsciously learned, I guess, after hanging around her for a few years.
A lot changed in the few years that she was here; some of my buds had changed class, or even grade (going farther up or down, t didn’t matter), and even changed school because they moved into some country none if them (or I) had every heard of. Dang, I guess we should have paid attention and geography when we learned the Eurasian continent. It took me years to get it, but Turkey isn’t part of Europe. That one small fraction on the brink of the abyss doesn’t even benefit from some of the geographical and lawful advantages because of its far-away-ism. It’s sad, but I’m not even sure if that’s true anyway… god I hate geography. Anyway, only she, B and F were left. B and F both have different time tables now, so we don’t see them anymore.
I had my first ego-crushing experience sometime the same year. A tall girl from the Table came to me, while I attempted escaping the harpy- claws, her name was… I dunno. We called her P because she was tall, doll-faced, and resembled to the hair one very particular annoying person named P. and she looked like one of the Hollywood celebrities. I could recognize those ribcages anywhere. She asked me out. I said no. she asked why. I said that although I was bi, I preferred women. She said she was a woman. I said I didn’t see any evidence. She screamed, scaring the birds in the trees away. Thank goodness the park was practically empty; she could have killed them all. She claimed she was a woman. J took the words right out of my mouth. If I were looking for a 1.70 tall, penis-less six year old boy, I would call her. Her scream nearly sent us into a coma.
Unfortunately, that wasn’t the last I saw of her. The same summer, when J left for the summer holidays, I was cornered by P in the pool club. In the showers to be precise. And that was my first sexual encounter. And the most traumatic.
*********************************************
Thank you for taking the time reading this. It's my turn today, Chi No Hana's resting a bit. Punching the hell out of me for coming up with this, and wondering how to continue.
Thank you for your patience. R+R
*********************************************
Chapter 4:Of J and Traumas
*********************************************
Now J was an exceptional person. She was strong minded, shy, boring and hilarious all at the same time. She wouldn’t, and still won’t, accept an opinion if it didn’t have any concrete or rational or deeply thought through work behind it. The philosophy teacher loved her the moment she decided to debate the theme ‘Epistemology’.
She arrived in the middle of second trimester, you see. She was shy when it wasn’t about philosophy, because she thought she wasn’t particularly good at every day conversation. She was hilarious as soon as one broke through the shyness, and one would always be witness to her sarcastic, satiric and painfully true remarks about some things, and some terribly out of subject things that would come out of her mouth out of the blue.
Our PE teacher hates her. Either because J detests and does not agree with any aspect of cheerleading and the tumble-around-the-gym-and-show-your-lingerie-to-the-world exercise (she calls it) or because comes up with existential questions that tear her throat apart. But I must say that they are really brave to tumble about like that… a bravery to be admired. She just threatened to use me as a target of she ever wanted to practice tennis.
She may hate sports, but she would never pass the chance of using a racket. Which is was I wisely shut my mouth and obeyed her. And lastly, she was boring when it came to her choice of… painting. She had no taste, at least in my opinion. I told her so. She asked me if I could justify it. I said no. And got away without serious physical harm. She hit my ego pretty hard there.
She can crumble anybody’s ego. Well, more crush and destroy than crumble. Something I had subconsciously learned, I guess, after hanging around her for a few years.
A lot changed in the few years that she was here; some of my buds had changed class, or even grade (going farther up or down, t didn’t matter), and even changed school because they moved into some country none if them (or I) had every heard of. Dang, I guess we should have paid attention and geography when we learned the Eurasian continent. It took me years to get it, but Turkey isn’t part of Europe. That one small fraction on the brink of the abyss doesn’t even benefit from some of the geographical and lawful advantages because of its far-away-ism. It’s sad, but I’m not even sure if that’s true anyway… god I hate geography. Anyway, only she, B and F were left. B and F both have different time tables now, so we don’t see them anymore.
I had my first ego-crushing experience sometime the same year. A tall girl from the Table came to me, while I attempted escaping the harpy- claws, her name was… I dunno. We called her P because she was tall, doll-faced, and resembled to the hair one very particular annoying person named P. and she looked like one of the Hollywood celebrities. I could recognize those ribcages anywhere. She asked me out. I said no. she asked why. I said that although I was bi, I preferred women. She said she was a woman. I said I didn’t see any evidence. She screamed, scaring the birds in the trees away. Thank goodness the park was practically empty; she could have killed them all. She claimed she was a woman. J took the words right out of my mouth. If I were looking for a 1.70 tall, penis-less six year old boy, I would call her. Her scream nearly sent us into a coma.
Unfortunately, that wasn’t the last I saw of her. The same summer, when J left for the summer holidays, I was cornered by P in the pool club. In the showers to be precise. And that was my first sexual encounter. And the most traumatic.
*********************************************
Thank you for taking the time reading this. It's my turn today, Chi No Hana's resting a bit. Punching the hell out of me for coming up with this, and wondering how to continue.
Thank you for your patience. R+R