Playing Doctor

Initial Visit?

Friday, May 20

i go invisible

When I was twelve, I was hanging out with a group of about seven guys from my school. I grew up on an island near Miami—so we all lived within ten blocks of each other. One of them was my second cousin, who everyone considered a bit off, but I thought he was kind of cool.

We were in Mac’s bedroom and he had bunk beds. While we were talking, I climbed up on the top bunk, and I guess I didn’t say anything for a while, and the horrible wish came true.

In The Chronicles of Narnia, about the third or fourth book, either The Silver Chair or Prince Caspian, one of the children wishes she could see what her friends were doing at that moment. It turned out they were talking about her…

‘Where’s Erik?’ one of them said. They all looked around at the group sitting on the floor and saw that I was not there. If I had an ounce of sense, I would have said something. But I thought it was a fun trick and remained quiet, though my head hung over the edge of the bunk bed, peering down at them.

‘I guess he left without saying anything,’ Mac said.

‘That kid’s weird,’ someone said.

And so it started.

‘I don’t really like him much.’

‘I only hang out with him because he’s related to me.’

‘He goes to the gifted program with me,’ another one said, ‘but he goes to a special section for the people with problems. We call them the Mad Scientists.’

Someone told another story that confirmed my oddity.

I was so traumatized that I cannot even remember how I made it out of that room. I have a vague recollection of waiting until everyone left and then sneaking out, and I have a vague recollection of saying something and all of them pretending that they knew I was there and were only joking. I have no idea which one of the two is true.

Anyway, that was years ago, and I’m completely over it. And for the record, I only went to that special section because I had some weird speech problem, fuck-tard. I didn’t want to be in your Robot dance performance of ‘Kilroy Was Here’ anyway.

Part six of Nashville:

my love has gone


Blogger hot babe writes:

Glad to hear you're over it & hold no resentment.


Anonymous Anonymous writes:

No one ever really gets over their childhood. Don't try and kid us.


Blogger Spider writes:

Just remember - it made you who you are today...


Blogger jamesdamian writes:

i have scars from a bunk bed, too


Anonymous Anonymous writes:

I remember being there with you, although I certainly was not. It seems to me you tried to sneak out the jalousy window by the bunkbed and they caught you mid-ass.


Blogger dan writes:

That is one of the saddest posts I've ever read, probably because it's so easy to identify with. The same exact thing happened to me as I arrived late to my best friend's birthday party in the seventh grade:

"How come dan isn't here yet? He's probably too busy boofing off."

"I dunno. I don't care. My mom made me invite that faggot."

I wasn't sure what they meant by boofing off, but I didn't even get to sneak out. I had to go in there and pretend like I didn't hear anything because it was his fuckin birthday and they were all waiting for me to arrive. Jackasses. Plus it was a sleepover. Ugh.


Anonymous Anonymous writes:

Some people's admiration is not a compliment. I say, "their loss."


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