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Los Angeles, California
I am 47 and thriving in Southern California. One day at a time.
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Friday, November 20, 2009

high school confidential

the other day, k waxed poetic about the relative ease that was high school. but for me, it was a troubled time. like many, it was isolating. at 13, i had already been diagnosed with kidney failure. there were clinics, hospital visits and pills. a kidney biopsy at age 14 challenged my walking ability. 10 days on bed rest. bedpans filled with shit. fainting at Sick Kids after one too many pokes. ease was nowhere to be found.

my father was gone. and out of the ruins, my mother built an oasis. back taxes aside.

wicker furniture in the living room. powdered milk. discount blocks of cheese. riding the subway at age 8.

there was no car for me at age 16. no sweet sixteen.

and so, do i long for the days of high school? no way, jose. not by a long shot.

alone. vacuumed away. sucked into a deep, black hole. perhaps we all felt that way. insecure. lost. frightened.

when george orwell wrote about 1984, did he anticipate the mirror of 2009?

government surveillance, mind control, perpetual war and the voiding of citizens' rights.

philosophies that have streamlined over time. blossomed. and prevailed.

my loneliness in high school was a boundless ache. misunderstood. empty. and so, i tried. GO WEST. a mask of second hand clothes, cliques and mooning over the unattainable god. but who gives a fuck. it was only high school, after all.

but as i sigh, i realize, like "1984", not so much has changed after all.

i still feel misunderstood. insecure. and alone.

but, now, instead of sobbing over a misplaced zit, or the glance he didn't send my way, i ache for the understanding that no-one can provide. when george orwell wrote about mind control, i'm sure he didn't mean expectation.

but, perpetual war. i've got that one covered.

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