perfect peice of me

I walk in the doors to Kennedy High - and i'm swallowed into a mass.

most highschools are like this I guess - halls too thick to breathe through, and the idiots in them can only worsen the situation.

most of the time i'm tryin' to get through them as fast as I can. I never make eye contact. my eyes are too busy watching my feet shuffle on the floor. maybe this is why I don't understand people. I spend so much time watching my feet I never really bother looking at a person.

I feel my body surge into a metal locker - left open - conveniently.

"Hey freak!" I hear the voice of some cock-headed jock Bryan call "Watch where you're going!" he shouts as he slams the locker door into my side, in a fuitle attempt to close me in.

instead I just feel the metal latch rush into my stomach, as I lurche halfway in the locker still, and halfway in the crowed hallway.

he's still standing there, with this amused smirk on his face. - so better yet, this is most likely why i've never tried to get to know people. most of them are cocks.

"So Dan - how's it hangin'?" my name is Pan - but some joke around the school, most of the kids around here call me Dan the Dyke.

I try and shove past them, but they just move to stand in my path. Bryan's friend Mark and Jeff have come up by now, all three of them hovering above me. trying to make me feel smaller - i'm already a bit short...

"I asked you a question Dan." Bryan stands there smiling, thinking himself clever for whatever fucking reason, when his girlfriend Amber comes up.

"Leave her alone Bryan." she says - eyeing me idly. Amber is very much taller then I am - star athelete in this school, with thick shoulders and some real bulk. but no one calls her a dyke. she's got blond hair and a big chest - and she's dating Bryan to add to that.

i'm thin, flat chested and with short hair, on top of that, most of my clothes were picked out of the boys section in walmart, cuz I find it more comfortable. people say tomboys don't really exist anymore. and I know people talk alot about feminism, how women don't need to try to be like a man. they can do whatever they want and still be a woman. but you've still got these bimbo's dressing with their chest and ass hangin' out just to impress the on-looker cocks - the girls who giggle every time a cute guys passes - the girls who act like a bimbo to make some jock feel important. I hear people talk alot about feminism, but we've still got a long way to go.

"you eyeing my girl?" Bryan asks giggling to himself, wrapping his arm around Amber's waste, resting his head between her neck and shoulder.

"maybe you'd like to get with her. I know you wanna get some of this [he gestures] - dyke." he spits and his hand wanders up her skirt - in which i'm assuming is suggestive about her cooter. I just look away disgusted. as Mark and Jeff just giggle along.

"Oh., I think she would like to get with your girl Bryan! Better watch out, I think you've got some competition!" Mark chirps out.

Amber pushes Bryan away and in some annoying tone deaf little high pitched voice giggles

"Bryan! stop it!"

I'd rather kiss a maggot filled corpse then feel someone like Bryan Welshes hands on me like that.

though I can't really talk, i'm in high school and i've never even kissed a guy let alone done any thing else. everyone around here is so sure i'm a dyke. am I attracted to women? am I attracted to men? I really don't know, i've been too disgusted with people all my life to even give a damn about my sexual preferance.

at this opportunity I try to move passed them without them noticing - as they are still idiotically laughing out loud, but Jeff sees me try to leave and blocks my way again.

but Amber speak up again.

"Jeff just leave her alone, she's not a threate."

Jeff sighs, and smiles whistfully. "yea I guess we can let the dyke live today. be gone lesbo!" he says pushing me down to the floor as i'm swallowed again in the mass.

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I come home - Orgy - eyes, radio, lies - blaring through my head phones as I walk through the door and throw my pack on the floor. collapsing with it. today, yes today was a bad day.

i'm sitting there just staring blankly out my living room window as my mother enters the room.

~~~~

I think I was 6 or 7 years old when I told her I wanted to be a boy. she looked at me strangley and told me "no you don't."

I ran out side with my shirt off just like th other little boys in my neighborhood did, caught frogs and rode my bike through the mudd. I wasn't exactly such an outcast back then though, either. I had some friends. Jen and Milly used to ride bikes with me through the woods and stay out late catching fire flys and playing flashlight tag.

I never liked playing with dolls, and any time my mother put me in a dress it would end up tattered and torn from climbing trees. back then I wasn't so strange, just a kid. maybe I never matured, but I don't see acting like a bimbo as maturing to me. it's just fitting into some societal role so you have a place to stand. so you fit into a clique. thats what Milly did after Jr High. after we stopped being kids, after she got boobs and a boyfriend to boot. Jen just moved away before that happened.

~~~~



Right now she was standing before me with a tray of cookies, smiling.

"how was your day at school dear?"

I looked up at her taking a cookie and smiling.

"it was alright." she smiled again and tilted her head.

before she got married to my father I had heard that she studied martial arts and was very pro-active in the community. though some where along the line she fell into some subtle form of house wife.

she stared out the window, a pensive look cascading over her face.

"the doctor came by today..."

my heart stopped. i he's dead/i

just for a second it dead stopped, and I know my face must have went just a bit pale.

"he'll be by again tomorrow just to check up on your father. he says he's doing quite a bit better."

he's gonna be back? if the doctor is coming back that means that he's not dead. that means he's alright just for now. even if he can't get out of bed. even if that last part of what she said was a lie. he's not dead.

I don't know what's wrong with him. I don't want to know. they're not telling me either. but I know he's going to die. he went into that room three weeks ago, and he hasn't come out yet. he stays in bed, stubble growing on his face, a blank face, emptiness in his eyes.

I pass the room sometimes - I don't think he even recognizes me. Mum sleeps in the recliner at night, just to watch over him. ever time I hear her get up, and cringe and hold my breathe waiting for her to come through my beddroom door and tell me that we have to get him to a hospital. she always sits back down though, and then I can breathe again.

I know I should go check on him, but I don't even think he can remember who I am right now...

"i've gotta do some homework" I say picking up my bag and brushing passed mum, hurrying into my bedroom and locking the door behind me.

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The woman behind the counter was shuffling through some papers when she looked up at me and smiled.

does she know? does she possess some penetrating gaze that sees through my mask? can she tell whether I belong or not? is she smiling because she knows how she confuses me, and she knows how childish I am?

she hands me a slip as I lower my head mumbling thanks as I rush to the back, hiding in a crowd of book shelves.

the place is nice, it has a book section on lesbian living, and out front they are selling lattes, a band is playing on stage and woman are all around - dancing - conversing. they all just look so happy and light. so comfortable in their bodies. I'm nothing like that.

I stay there for quite a while, flipping through the book selection thats more descriptive then anything i've ever read - homosexually targeted or otherwise. it's like an entire alternate lifestyle. there are self help books, cooking, first aid - everything. and I must have stayed there for longer then I expected because I heard the band start to do a sound check before they started to play again.

soon after a young woman in her twenties it must have been - with long red hair and big browns eyes comes over to me - as I sit on the floor - head lurched into one of the books - she leans over me and asks me to dance, kindly smiling - smelling of sweet perfume.

I have to say i'm in shock, I imediatly break out into a sweat, and my nerves go haywire - as I mumble something about not knowing how.

she says thats ok as she pulls me off into the section where some women are already dancing. I feel her lightly place her hand at the back of my spine, and gently glide with my body to the music.

sweat is pouring from my armpits, and I don't know what to do. and i'm probably looking at the woman like she's crazy. and i'm just a mess. i've never danced with someone before. certainly not a woman.

I have to get out of there - I stutter something obout needing to go to bathroom as I push out of her touch and run out the of the club. and by the time I get out i'm breathing heavily, and too fast. my eyes burn, and maybe i'm crying. i'm acting hysterical and maybe i'm fucking nuts.

am I attracted to women? being touched by one certainly didn't feel right - but would being touched by a man feel any different? I don't know! I don't know how to look at a person. I don't know how to talk to a person. I can't look into their eyes. I don't know how to touch a person. I've never learned. i've spent so much time avoiding them, concentrating on how much so many people are different from me to ever bother to consider how we are the like. how is it I can relate in any way?

I don't know how to touch a person. does that make me in-human? does it make me less then? am I disgraceful? maybe I am just a freak. just a fucking freak of nature...

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its a tradition of our school to let a different student everyday play as dj in our cafeteria. I think it's a pretty nice idea. some of the more popular students get up and dance, but most just enjoy to hear something while they're eating.

I never get up and do it myself. I usually sit at my back corner table reading a book and have my head phones on - 'cause most of the time people who dj just play crap ass music not worth listening. you-know pop songs with every line or or two rhyming and some - I just dropped off my disney channel type of beat. other times its 'gansta rap' or just stuff I don't like.

every now and then I see this one guy go up there. he's average hieght, slim, a bit paler then most of the sun bathed people on this side of town, and with the strangest messy purple hair hanging in his blue eyes.

i've studied him. he's the only one i'll take my head phones off for. he'll get up there and spin tracks on everything! he'll throw in alot of old stuff and add some new beats - then he'll mix in alittle new-age - sometimes rap - sometimes rock. its talent that i'm amazed by. most of the popluar kids who are usually dancing or showing off to their idiot friends are just standing there silent and looking at him with the most peculiar stare.

most of the students sitting down I can tell are feeling the music though, bobbing their heads to the beat. and he knows he's not off key, and he knows he has a talent. and every time he leaves, he's left those popular fucks just staring after him. cause one of the outsiders can do something better then them!

this is a show I love. I respect that guy in a silent way.

"see ya next time trunks" I hear some guy call across the cafe,' as the purple hared boy raises his head and nods back at him before exiting the cafeteria.

well now I know his name...

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I was exiting when my english teacher Mrs. Benson places hand on my shoulder.

I looked back to see her smiling.

"you know Pan, I really liked the last poem you turned in - it was very well written. you have a talent for expressing your emotions through words." she said nodding her head a bit as blushed and muttered a thanks.

"and I was thinking - you know - one of my other students - trunks, trunks briefs, you know him?" she asked pausing slightly - needing to say more I could tell.

"no, not really" I said slightly, backing away so her hand would fall off my shoulder.

"well he had asked me if I could suggest anyone that might be able to write a few raps to go with some of his music." she said as I begin to get the jist of where she was going with this.

"oh, no, no, no" I said waving my hands in slight defense, as I noticed of few of her next period students begin to enter her class. "I don't know how to write raps, I write poems sometimes - but they don't even rhyme."

"you have a real talent young lady, you are going to go somewhere with this" she said not accepting my objection. "you might as well and try to embrace it in any way you can - I gave him your name if its alright with you?"

I sighed defeated, and moped out of her classroom. what if he came and asked me about it? I could just reject.

I can do that.

but who am I kidding - a suggestion from Mrs. Benson is nothing - he won't even think twice about what some flighty english teacher suggested to him. thats right. so I have nothing to worry about. nothing at all.

and a sudden feeling of relief and dissapointment washed over me all at once. I should pay it no mind.

I was walking to my locker when I was thinking that and I saw Bryan Welshe right in front of me. I tried to turn around without him noticing, tried to find a way out. before Bryan and Jeff could spot me.

"If it isn't Dan the Dyke." I heard him call.

too late...

"Hey Bryan," jeff suggested - "you know I was thinking - what if she isn't a girl trying to be a guy, but really a guy trying to be a girl???" he suggested as a clever glance that passed between the two as they surrounded me.

"you know, we could always find out? 'cause honestly I'd like to know"

I felt their hands suddenly grab me and push my body up against the row of lockers - slowly dragging my body in the direction of the boys restroom.

I screamed when I realized what was happening.

"Stop!! let me go!!! Fucking let me go!!!!!"

Bryan freed one of his hands from holding me up and placed it over my mouth. I could barely breathe - let alone scream again.

They dragged me in the empty bathroom - it smelled of stale piss and urinal cakes. and bryan let go of my mouth for a second as he and jeff hoisted me up against the wall.

"let me go!" - I tried again "get the fuck off me~" I tried to push them away, tried to kick them, struggled but it didn't seem to phase them.

"We're just trying to see whatcha got down there Danny" jeff spoke out as I felt his hands reach for the button of my pants. I was cringing, ready to hurl - trying to screamng, trying to struggling, but my body was going numb from fright - humiliation.

just then I saw someone enter - messy purple hair hanging in his eyes. maybe he could help me.

he stodd there for a second in shock as he caught a glimpse of me and figured out what exactly was going on and he cleared his throat, so Jeff and Bryan would look up. so much for helping me...

"if it isn't Mr. Dj Freekshow - I think you should just find another bathroom." jeff said looking back with a smirk on his face, as I heard the metal zipper of my jeans rip down and my pants fall to my ankles. only my over-sized gray hoodi barely left to cover me.

"I'm warning you" he said a bit timidly "if you don't let her go right now i'm going to the principle."

Jeff and Bryan exchanged a wary glance at eachother before finally dropping me out of their grasp.

"I don't really care what it has down there anyway - I wouldn't go anywhere near it" Bryan laughed, as they both stormed out of the bathroom shoving Trunks roughly in the wall.

I was beyond humilated and mortified by this point. I just drew up my pants and quickly buttoned them before rushing past the guy who saved me - who was crunched on the floor from the impact of his body against the wall tryjng to get up. I didn't look back to see if he was ok...