"That" Boy.
Rocked, Shaken and Stirred
He knew the classes weren't the half of it. The playground made it so much worse. Glances wherever he went, dirty looks, hateful sneers. They didn't want him to join.
He didn't either.
He was content, sitting and playing alone. On the swings, on the jungle gym. Not even the preschoolers joined him, they left him the hell alone.
He enjoyed it that way. He hated company.
A few teachers pitied him, a few despised him, several adored him. He never caused trouble, he was just the centre of it all. He didn't ask to be picked on, teased and bullied. He was the main discussion in the staff room. A few teachers often bitched.
But they were reprimanded by the rest. Why hate the innocent one?
He hated getting in the car. He would squirm, until he was released. When he did get shoved in the car, he would often have to contribute to the conversation. That never went well. He liked to walk. Gave him more time alone.
He liked being alone. Almost as much as he liked his animals.
No one really cared for him. He was mainly a burden on the ones he depended on. He wasn't trusted with cooking. Not even toast.
His psychiatrist didn't recommend it.
He was also never allowed to learn to drive. Like he would want to, moving things scared him. He didn't believe he could do anything safely.
Neither did anyone else.
He didn't either.
He was content, sitting and playing alone. On the swings, on the jungle gym. Not even the preschoolers joined him, they left him the hell alone.
He enjoyed it that way. He hated company.
A few teachers pitied him, a few despised him, several adored him. He never caused trouble, he was just the centre of it all. He didn't ask to be picked on, teased and bullied. He was the main discussion in the staff room. A few teachers often bitched.
But they were reprimanded by the rest. Why hate the innocent one?
He hated getting in the car. He would squirm, until he was released. When he did get shoved in the car, he would often have to contribute to the conversation. That never went well. He liked to walk. Gave him more time alone.
He liked being alone. Almost as much as he liked his animals.
No one really cared for him. He was mainly a burden on the ones he depended on. He wasn't trusted with cooking. Not even toast.
His psychiatrist didn't recommend it.
He was also never allowed to learn to drive. Like he would want to, moving things scared him. He didn't believe he could do anything safely.
Neither did anyone else.