Anorex-a-Gogo
Weekends
Most kids would rather do anything than go to school. I hate school, but I would much rather go to a place where I'm invisible than stay at home where I'm not. Weekends suck.
The reasons weekends are the worst is that I can't escape. During the week I can disappear into bathrooms and school classrooms. On the weekend, all I have is my room to escape to. And I hate my room for reasons I'm quite sure you know by now.
Mom fusses over me on the weekends. She brings me food because she thinks I look too thin, and then she tries to analyze my "feelings". Yeah right, Mom, but I don't feel anything anymore.
She asks me why I don't bring friends over. My standard reply is that they all have lives. I think she feels bad for me. I don't know why I don't tell her about Mikey.
And then there's the whole boyfriend/girlfriend situation. My mother doesn't know if I'm gay or not. I've never bothered to specify it to her. So she'll occasionally ask, "Any boys you fancy in school?" All cautious and worried because she's not sure whether I'll be offended or just answer. My most common answer is just No. Occasionally, I'll scowl. That's right, folks, I am a grumpy misunderstood teenager and I'm expressing it!
Then she'll ask, "Any girls?" To which I reply sarcastically, "Yes, loads, Mom. In fact, I fucked ten of them in the basement. And that was just last night!"
That usually shuts her up.
Because the thing is, I am gay. And I am ashamed.
Now, before you start yelling at me about Gay Pride and all that shit, let me explain something. I am not ashamed because I like boys. That is probably the least of my problems. Being gay is not my worst fear--the reason behind it is.
You see, my biggest fear is that Owen, the boy I once called my brother, made me how I am. How would you feel waking up day after day of being raped by your brother (adopted or not) and thinking, I am who I am, I like who I like, all because he does things to me? Things that are so, so wrong. How would you feel?
Like shit, that's how you'd feel.
And ashamed. Ashamed that you like boys because your brother touched you at night.
So there it is, folks, the sad truth. I, Frank Anthony Iero, am one fucked-up son-of-a-bitch. Spread the news.
Anyway, weekends are basically the days I spend locked in a room I hate, hating the people I live with, what they do to me, how they just don't get it.
And most of all, I hate myself.
The reasons weekends are the worst is that I can't escape. During the week I can disappear into bathrooms and school classrooms. On the weekend, all I have is my room to escape to. And I hate my room for reasons I'm quite sure you know by now.
Mom fusses over me on the weekends. She brings me food because she thinks I look too thin, and then she tries to analyze my "feelings". Yeah right, Mom, but I don't feel anything anymore.
She asks me why I don't bring friends over. My standard reply is that they all have lives. I think she feels bad for me. I don't know why I don't tell her about Mikey.
And then there's the whole boyfriend/girlfriend situation. My mother doesn't know if I'm gay or not. I've never bothered to specify it to her. So she'll occasionally ask, "Any boys you fancy in school?" All cautious and worried because she's not sure whether I'll be offended or just answer. My most common answer is just No. Occasionally, I'll scowl. That's right, folks, I am a grumpy misunderstood teenager and I'm expressing it!
Then she'll ask, "Any girls?" To which I reply sarcastically, "Yes, loads, Mom. In fact, I fucked ten of them in the basement. And that was just last night!"
That usually shuts her up.
Because the thing is, I am gay. And I am ashamed.
Now, before you start yelling at me about Gay Pride and all that shit, let me explain something. I am not ashamed because I like boys. That is probably the least of my problems. Being gay is not my worst fear--the reason behind it is.
You see, my biggest fear is that Owen, the boy I once called my brother, made me how I am. How would you feel waking up day after day of being raped by your brother (adopted or not) and thinking, I am who I am, I like who I like, all because he does things to me? Things that are so, so wrong. How would you feel?
Like shit, that's how you'd feel.
And ashamed. Ashamed that you like boys because your brother touched you at night.
So there it is, folks, the sad truth. I, Frank Anthony Iero, am one fucked-up son-of-a-bitch. Spread the news.
Anyway, weekends are basically the days I spend locked in a room I hate, hating the people I live with, what they do to me, how they just don't get it.
And most of all, I hate myself.