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My Application (To the World) In Progress

By Silver Graff

By Silver GraffPublished 7 years ago 27 min read
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Chapter 1:

“Now she walks through her sunken dream

To the seats with the clearest view

And she's hooked to the silver screen

But the film is sadd'ning bore

For she's lived it ten times or more

She could spit in the eyes of fools

As they ask her to focus on

Sailors, fighting in the dancehall

Oh man, look at those cavemen go

It’s the freakiest show”

David Bowie, “Life on Mars?”

I was born in a small hospital in the vast city of Memphis, TN. With major health issues and weight problems, the doctors suspected that with 1997’s technology, there was a slim chance I wasn’t going to survive. I had duodenal atresia, the congenital absence of a portion of the lumen in the duodenum. I had to have emergency surgery to stop it from rapidly growing on my abdomen and it took over two weeks to recover from the mess. I was told that I didn’t cry by my doctors and my parents. In fact, that’s when they learned I had a high pain tolerance.

Being strong at an early age had its advantages: I could break everything without getting in trouble, I could see myself getting into sports when I got a little older (4 maybe), and nothing in the slightest could hurt me. But it also had its disadvantages too. I cannot cry unless it has hurt me personally. People would tell me that I was cold whenever a friend or family member had died but I just couldn’t do it. It felt...foreign to me and I did not want to seem as if I were a punk or a wussy who wouldn’t dare to fight her own grounds. Maybe it was because I didn’t want to see them in that state. I wanted to remember them in their highest glory, alive and well and wanting to conquer. But alas, our lives are only so short, I realize this now as I write. We want to be heroes in our own mental states. We want to be successful in everything that we do.

In my first few years of breathing life, I was deemed an honors child. I could read by the time I was a year old, I could walk by 8 or 9 months, and read chapter books at the age of two. Reading has always been my go-to and languages as well. I learned Spanish before anything so my dad would get frustrated at my mom and tell her to teach me English. I didn’t learn until I turned maybe 3 or 4. I would continue to learn Spanish over the years and grew to love it so much, it became my scapegoat whenever anyone spoke it. I wanted to seem so educated, so bourgeoisie that I needed something to get away from all the turmoil I was facing. Especially when my 3rd birthday came around.

“What do you want more than anything, dear?” my mother asked, running a slightly shaking hand through her newly done weave. She always had them as far as I can remember. This time, the curls were an ombre blue.

I fumed. “I want Daddy!”

“If he shows up,” she muttered under her breath before smiling warmly. “I told him you wanted to see him. He said he should be here today.”

“Then where is he?”

She sighed. “He’s on his way.”

She kept telling me that until almost ten at night. I cried so much that I felt so sick and tired at the same time. When I fell asleep, however, I heard a scruffy voice arguing with my mother.

‘Daddy,’ I thought happily, running down the stairs. ‘He’s here.’

I stopped my tracks when I see them in the kitchen, trying to stop each other from throwing pans at one another.

“What are trying to tell me?” my mother asked, pleading with her eyes. So, so many tears came out of this woman that I’m astonished she still got some in her left.

“I cheated on you.” My dad. The cheater. What a life.

I turned around and went back upstairs, into my bed, and wanted to wish it all away. I needed some alone time but little did I know it would affect me for a much longer part of my life.

***

By the time I was five, I’d lived in about 4 states- Tennessee, Utah, Ohio and Oklahoma. We moved to San Francisco in 2004, a few months shy of my 7th birthday. I had just started kindergarten not too long ago and already they wanted me to move on up to the 2nd grade! I was so excited. I could finally be in the age group where it didn’t matter if I was born after September. The whole concept frustrated me; how dare they think that since I turned 5 in November, I had to wait an ENTIRE YEAR to start kindergarten? It bothered my young heart so much.

We were living like kings and queens in San Francisco. We had a home only twenty minutes by the beach, we had three meals (sometimes 4) a day, we went to a posh academy, and I had the most awesome friends. Then I went to Monroe Elementary School a year later. Seven, bored, and just wanted a car ride instead of a bus ride to school. I became spoiled and got everything Hello Kitty, GI Joe, Harry Potter, or any genre of book necessary. If I had my books, I was all set. I thought no one could take that from me.

Until the 2008 crash of the economy. Everybody was in a frenzy; my mother lost her good pay and had to give up our beautiful home. I had to move away to somewhere smaller and more cramped, which was Mesa. AZ. If you wanted a mix of the heat and racism, this was exactly your place. Their primary school went all the way up to sixth grade, where I started at.

My first boyfriend per se was named Austin Johnson. He was 12, skinny as a twig, and wanted to make out with me. I thought that was sweet. I’d never kissed anyone before so I wanted to at that moment. But after a long week of dating, I followed up on a dare by one of my friends Alexis, who was his ex, to dump him.

It made me feel in control. I loved it and went on to somebody else, Wendy. She had a friend named Araceli that tagged along so I dealt with it. If I could be Wendy’s friend, that’s all that mattered. I never could tell her that I liked her. I couldn’t quite put it in words. Guys during that time never made me feel remotely skittish and nervous. I was alway so confident and can always one up them. Years later, I find I am better as friends with guys than anything more. We could play video games, talk about girls, and have farting contests. And they wouldn’t see me more than just as friend. It didn’t matter much to me. I just wanted to feel I belonged somewhere and belong I did eventually feel.

“So, do you have a crush on anybody?” Wendy asked, flipping her long black gorgeous hair. “Cause I do.”

I nodded. “Yeah, I like-” I point to the guy in the flag football team to distract myself. I didn’t know why I choked up. I couldn’t tell her at all for fear our friendship would collapse. Besides, I wanted to move soon without the baggage of someone else’s feelings to tag along with.

She frowned. “Ruben?”

“Uh, yeah. Ruben.” ‘Ruben?’ I thought. ‘I don’t know who he is.’

“Gosh, do you see how he catches that football? He’s so cute. Girl, you have some taste.”

Disappointed that she liked him and not me, I huffed a goodbye and went home in tears, already feeling like the world was crushing on me.

‘Oh, God,’ I prayed that night. ‘Why must I be this way? Why can’t I be normal and like boys and want them to like me back? Why must I be so complicated? Please help me find an answer, Lord. I know you do not condone my behavior. Tell me when to stop.’

***

Chapter 2

“Home is where I want to be

Pick me up and turn me around

I feel numb, born with a weak heart

I guess I must be having fun

The less we say about it the better

Make it up as we go along

Feet on the ground, head in the sky

It's okay, I know nothing's wrong, nothing

Oh! I got plenty of time

Oh! You got light in your eyes

And you're standing here beside me

I love the passing of time

Never for money, always for love

Cover up and say goodnight, say goodnight”

Talking Heads, “This Must Be the Place (Naive Melody)”

But of course, my feelings did not stop. It felt as if I had no hope for the future, as if I will forever be unhappy. However, that all changed in my seventh grade year. Her name was Sam Angulo. She lit up my heart and ran firecrackers across my spine and soul like no one else had done before. We were the best and worst of friends; dating our friends just to fit in with our parents’ judgments but secretly harboring a tender liking for one another, planned most of our big group with friends events, jammed out to the same type of music (screamo), and the ultimate shunning of our friendship when I transferred to another high school in Rhode Island.

Sam made me feel at ease with myself. I could act all weird and crazy and she would still take me back again and again. Although there wasn’t any romance involved, I could finally picture me happy with a similar girl if it came to the dating part.

As with middle school, we all made mistakes and mistakes I certainly did make. My first kiss with a guy happened the summer before seventh grade. Shane, the egotistical football player, had his eye on me for over a few months at this point. I wanted to start some mess with this girl named Kelly, who I had despised because she broke my most prized heart necklace, so I decided to go out with him. Man, everybody wanted to hang out with me then. How could an average girl like me snag him? Honestly, I still don’t know how. He would never hang out with my friends and I. We were too “boring” for him.

The day we kissed for the first time, I was nervous and my palms were so sweaty. He had so experience, I heard, in that category that I could muster the courage to tell him until the lunch before.

He half-smiled when I approached his lunch table. “What’ssup, girl? How ya doin’, sweet cheeks?”

I rolled my eyes as the rest of the football players gaggled at his behavior. “No, “I said through gritted teeth. “We need to talk about some.. things.”

“Like what?”

‘Ugh, such a douche,’ I thought. ‘Silver, you can get this over with.’ I sighed exasperatedly. “I wanna kiss you so bad right now.” I covered my mouth in a shocked manner. Now I just embarrassed myself.

His boys just kept laughing and were like, “Shane, dude. You always get the girls, man.”

But all in all, we did kiss later on.

And it felt...bland. No passion, no spine-tingling like in those types of novels you’ve secretly read from time to time, no swelling of the chest, nothing. Just...lifeless and sloppy and all over the place.

“There,” he said, jumping off the wooden bench, “you got the kiss you wanted. Now, how did it feel?”

I shrugged. “I think we should no longer be together. I’m sorry.” I grabbed my backpack and without looking back, I left him standing alone by himself. No need to see the look on his face.

Needless to say, his response was even worse when I got back to the school the next day.

Shane could be an asshole on most days when we were together but he had certainly topped the cake this time around. His ex and my nemesis Kelly spread rumors about me being a whore, spreading my legs just for the next guy, and tried to tarnish my friendship with my steady group of friends. Of course, they didn’t believe her. I mean, I wonder who ever did. But it didn’t stop the bullying; it didn’t stop me wanting to get the middle school life over with.

Until I had my first suicide attempt. Middle of 8th grade, lonely but not alone, depressed, anxious, and certainly on my wits end. 14 years old, tired, smartest kid in my class, and hiding this side of me from everybody. I looked into my bathroom window, tears flowing through my bloodshot eyes from not sleeping well, my hands shaking and holding a bottle of pills.

And down I go into a spiral of my man-made doom, spinning out of control and losing grip of reality.

***

High school: it was the best of times and it was the worst of times. Like I’m sure it was for everyone. And everything in between. I had my sight on doing dual college and high school, an option I’d never dreamed possible until then. I had just moved to Portland, OR after a terrible ending of a barely flowered relationship with a girl named Valerie back in RI but I was still homesick for the state. So, to clear my mind, I spent my 16th birthday aimlessly at Sizzler and acted as if I were okay. Then I began at Lincoln High School a few weeks later, a slightly prestigious institution that only cared about rich, smart predominately white folks. Especially no one like me. I wore pretty much the same Goth clothing, minded my own business, ate lunch by myself, and lived in the school library. I didn’t really talk until after the New Year and started theatre for the first time in years.

I grew to absolutely love it. I could be a different person, living an entirely different lifestyle, mood, emotion, and still go back to being me at the end of the play. I wanted to do it 24/7. It was absolutely breathtaking to see others perform so effortlessly. I wanted every single part of theatre so much that I had an epiphany: I had to be a director. I just had to be. I started to put my attention towards writing screenplays, casting people in my hypothetical monologues, joined anything remotely related to theatre, and gathered some of the cast parties as well to gather incentive points.

In this particular event in my life, I met what would be my now semi-permanent group of friends- Emily, Maya (before transition), Nola, Tanner (before transition), and Bella. Bella and I were inseparable, nearly spending every day as the school lunch ladies, talking about anime, dreading gym together, and talking about how annoying the gamer table was. But somehow, I had a major crush on Maya and man, did I suffer many consequences. Maya’s passion became Band, one thing that would be like visiting a morgue for me. She kept up with the clarinet players because they were home to her; they were pretty much a family since they’d dealt with one another for many years. And I just wasn’t used to that. I felt awkward mostly and left before the season even really began.

To begin the process of telling Maya I liked her, I began writing my feelings out. It has always been my coping mechanism for anything major in my life and it certainly helped during this period of my life; I wanted to ask this girl out, for goodness’ sake. And I wanted her to like me. But I need approval first and that came in the form of my mother, which I’m still not sure she has come to terms to the matter even today. With my itty-bitty retail job I started to work at, I saved for the Big Confessional Dinner in Seattle, where we were going to for vacation that summer. I needed my mom to understand so I can live my life without any worries. I already knew from the jump that boys didn’t really get me and I wasn’t particularly sure if I would want to date one again after all this mishap and confusion I’d gone through. Boys were just...not my forte, you know.

I told my mother instead in our hotel room, after she heard my phone buzz and wanted to see who texted so early in the morning.

“Who’s Maya?” she barked, barging into the small bathroom as I finished drying my face. “Is she your friend?”

I panicked. ‘What can I tell her to back off?’ I thought, stuck in the moment. “Uhh.. yeah, she’s a friend.”

“No, she’s not.” My sister suddenly cascades in smoothly, taking the hairbrush in the midst of it. “Silver has a major crush on her.”

“Is that true?” My mother seemed shocked then shook her head in disbelief. “I told you to leave all that mess behind in Rhode Island. Remember Valerie? That girl fucking dogged you. And also, you’re young. You just haven’t met the right guy yet.”

I rolled my eyes. I couldn’t believe this woman. Can’t she see how much I suffer everyday trying to find those feelings and end up in the same path over and over again?

To make matters worse, she told me she forbade me to go out with Maya when school started again. Man, I was so furious. So I decided to make another pile of mess in my own hands: If she wasn’t going to accept me, then she never will.

I asked Maya out on a cool September day after 90 minutes of a pressurized pep talk with Emily and Nola. Bella would’ve helped too but she had gotten sick earlier. And her response: yes. YES. Jumping almost in glee, we were together for four and half months, on and off. As each month progressed to something more, I found out she had feelings for somebody else in the friend group. In order to not lash out impulsively, I held my temper in and continued to date her. She would brush off my advances, keep me away from hanging out with her all the time, and got mad whenever I wanted to hang out outside of school with her.

My sister prophesied we wouldn’t last long. Two opposites in a janky school system that didn’t want to see the light in each other seemed as if we had no potential. Sure, like many relationships out there, we had our good days. We would talk about the similar music tastes we happened to share together, help each other in subjects we had trouble finding help in, and talk about our hopes and dreams for hours on the phone.

But alas, the girl wanted to wait to come out to her parents. I had thought she did when I first asked her out. The ‘coming out’ factor was a big draw between us: my mother didn’t talk about it and her parents just couldn’t think their daughter would do such a thing. It’s funny how parents think you going out with the same sex is bad but turned their faces away if it were a drug-or-alcohol issue because it’s “what teens do.” Being the bratty teen some people were in high school, I fumed silently and held more of my anger inside. Both of our stubborn behaviors were slowly killing us and it sure did when the end of the four months came.

Our first kiss might have been magical, a slip of the tongue and a peck on the cheek afterwards, but nothing tasted so bittersweet like our last one. With tears flowing down my cheeks, I kissed her with all my might and left the school building to go home before the rest of my immediate family came back from their dinner out. I am now not regretting what we had together. We were just two different people trying to find our places in high school. We had our ups and downs but it helped me know that if someone were suffering from anything personal, I would be there to comfort them by their side no matter what. I would hug them and never let them go. Just let them cry onto my shoulder and whisper sweet messages to calm them.

Lesson #1: Be supportive no matter what. You never know what someone is going through and they may help you, in turn, find something about yourself.

After our breakup, my emotions got the best of me and I lashed out on anything near me. I got detention for skipping class, trying to do reckless behavior (leave campus during assemblies, which stayed permanent until I graduated senior year), and tried to form new friendships with anybody else. I changed my get up from Goth to almost-too-inappropriate for school. Boots were replaced with wedges, shirts and shorts a thing of the past when mid length dresses were in season. I gathered unwanted attention from everybody but I didn’t care; I needed everyone to know that I was hurting and changing my attire definitely spawned the idea.

Until another suicide attempt made me go to therapy. This time, the pills weren’t doing enough and I ended up crying in front of my mother trying to explain that I did not know what was going on with me, why I felt like dying and wanting to go away. She decided therapy was the only option for me. And glad as I am now to have taken it before things got even worse.

The therapist assigned to me seemed interested enough in my case. Teenagers were always a case too many and I certainly fit the term for it. Maya and I were still ignoring each other pretty hard and wouldn’t even look each other in the face anymore. Emily did her best not to bring the subject up but to no avail. The girl would always be there no matter what. And I hated that so much. The therapist introduced herself as Naomi, 26-years-old, just finished college, and wanted to help teens like me.

I rolled my eyes. I couldn’t stand her already. Can’t she give me a brochure about some treatment place and just leave? “Nice to meet you, Naomi.”

“Good. At least you didn’t lose your manners.” She smirked. “So, tell me a little about yourself?”

“I don’t want to talk about myself. This has to do with the school trying to figure out why I am so damn depressed all the time. They just want me out of their hair so their reputation wouldn’t be tarnished too much.”

“Silver, you know that’s not true.”

I snorted. “Fine. You got me there.”

“Look, you don’t have to tell me everything. Just start with basics….”

***

Chapter 3:

“Chronic sunshines forever

You know that it don't really go

I'm getting spat out of became

While you're cycling home

It's an ongoing circle

No sights to behold

Vicious repetitions

While still cycling home

She said she said you're a star

But you're a star and we're all star stuff

That rebounds but first he out comes weak

Before you know you'll forgot what to speak

I just forgot what I was thinking

All these blues have got me sinking

I dropped it on the floor because of your missed call

The one you sent to me”

Cosmo Pyke, “Chronic Sunshine”

Therapy changed my life for the better. I’m so glad my usual stubborn self went through the process of extracting my emotions from my actions, differentiating between what is considered ‘normal’ or straight up ‘a piece of work.’ Along with therapy, I had to take this course for half a semester called Dialectical Behavior Therapy Support taught by one of the best teachers I ever had, Dr. Jim Hansen. He kept up with most of teens’ modern slang but was professional enough to discuss how our disorders should not fear us, in fact, we should embrace it as a part of our lives. I had one of my friends there just so she could say she went to a class during the school days before the last bit of senior year. We had so much pressure on us as seniors. Winter Formal was right around the corner and I wanted to ask one of the guy friends as my potential date to the dance. Not that I had a liking for the dude or anything (not really, when I deeply think about it now) but it would be fun to just go and live my life a little.

Dr. Hasen gave us an assignment before it became replaced with the upcoming dance and lots of waiting around for people wearing atrocious attire for one night: Document at least ten things we like about ourselves. After the dance (in a pretty much rushed 2 hours prior to the actual class), I wrote down this:

LIKES: Ahead of the game, quiet, reserved, timid, bold, obnoxious, vicious, sweet, a little gullible, and a little naive

I turned it in without any second guesses until he told me to stay after the class.

“These are not what I had in mind for the assignment,” he said, giving me a semi-concerned look. “They’re not generally positive for the individual. Why do you see yourself in this pessimistic light?”

“Maybe I see it in a positive light myself. I don’t mind if they have negative attributes to them. I think they help me get through life.”

“How so?”

I smirked. “I know when to stay my ground and not. I may not be able to defend myself in a much more physical manner but I keep my heart closed but my mind open. “

I didn’t mind that I may have shocked him a bit. I told my therapist the same thing later on that day.

“So,” she said, checking off a few things on her list, “you’re telling me you prefer to use shock value then influence someone?”

“If I can influence somebody by doing shock value, then yes, that would make me feel as if I had somewhat of a helping hand for that particular person. You know my dream is to help others as much as I can.”

“That’s why you shy away when people try to take advantage of you-”

I interrupted her with a dissatisfied grunt,

“-Which you don’t let them succeed most of the time. By the way, how are your current relationships right now?”

“Well, I didn’t get a boyfriend over the weekend, that’s for sure.”

She laughed. “You know that’s not the end all of-oh wait, you’re joking.” Then she noticed me adverting my gaze a little. “Does Silver have a little crush on someone?”

I snorted. “I wouldn’t put it so middle school-like.”

“Crushes are a normal human thing. And remember: Sexuality is fluid. Your body as a teenager is going through so many emotions right now. Maybe what you thought you were isn’t what it’s cracked up to be. Not saying to revalidate how you felt over the years. Maybe you just like someone who wants to help you grow, see you in a better light, maybe could grow into something a little more than that?”

“I can see your point, Naomi. But I doubt he’ll go with anyone like me. We’re so the opposite of one another.”

“Sometimes that can be a good thing. How is he the opposite of you?”

I sighed. “He’s a bit of a gamer.”

“The group that you and your friend do not like during lunch?” Even she was a little flabbergasted. Over the many sessions we had together, I would talk bitter of the group, how they’d ruined my reading, me trying to do homework, their loud and uproarious behavior, etc.

But for me to even like one of the members? Deeply appalling.

“Yeah…”

She scribble on her clipboard. “Interesting..”

I frowned. “What?”

“You like the gamer?”

“Yeah.”

“How did you start conversing with him?”

“Uhh.. I believe back in August.”

“Really?”

I nodded reluctantly. Where was she going with this? “He was showing me some very funny videos and I got to actually get along with him. He’s sweeter than I possibly imagined. To think I may have been wrong to judge him and his friends a little harshly. Over the few months, things got a little, I guess, serious. He started dropping me off to class, smiled at me during my lunch lady shift, and enjoyed each other’s presence.”

“Ok. That’s good.” She looked at her watch. “Aww, our time is done. Same time next week?”

I smiled. “You bet.”

***

The next person to fulfill my quest on finding love happened, yes, to be the exact gamer. He had other passions too like swimming, skateboarding, and wanting to excel in academics before achieving his dream goal of being an EMT. Our first date became our dearest haven: the movies. Anything cliched I could have come up with as teen and I decided to do the movies. But oh well, Zoolander 2 was good for the first thirty and most of the second half that I seen while getting a little action with said professed gamer dude. And no, I usually never kiss on the first date but sometimes life just works that way.

We were together for over a year. I do have to say now that this was my best relationship so far. He didn’t force anything upon me and I wanted nothing but honesty and loyalty in return. Sure, I did some things I wasn’t proud of (cheating on him after our “first” breakup with a douchecanoe, tested our love a few times, and refrained from telling him I had an abortion done after we lost our virginities together and I wound up pregnant even with protection and birth control) but he helped me see that no matter how twisted and distorted my view on life was, I am still wanted and looked after. I am cared for and worried over. I could be myself and not worry what anybody thought of me. And, for once, it was refreshing.

When we broke up, we knew that it wasn’t going to last. Still, another opposite I was attracted to had other things in mind. I worked my ass off for my daily grind and he went to school. We couldn’t be any more different from one another. But he did teach me one thing: Family.

Family is everywhere. I would not have tried to make amends with my dad for the first time in 16 years without him. I would not have met his supportive family during Thanksgiving and Christmas, who treated me as if I were their own. I would not even had made the plans to make one of our own one day. Yet again, life throws you a wrench and you make do with it. And I sure the hell did. I got myself back out there into the dating world. There’s no reason for me to give up when I have such a supportive base right now. I am going to have my off days but I will not let them take me down. I have too much to live for.

So that’s what I did: after my breakup crying, I went on a date. A simple chill date but a date like no other. This time, if I am destined to have love, then so be it.

But, at least for a split second, let me watch what unfolds before me and enjoy the moments I do have now.

THE END?

breakupsdatinglgbtq
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About the Creator

Silver Graff

I am an aspiring writer, director of plays and movies, and currently a college student in a mild ton of debt. Despite this, I hold on to achieving my dream and create something that brings back theatre to its natural habitat.

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