Backsliding

Violence makes me uncomfortable. I feel every blow like it’s my own body getting hit. I feel nauseous, sick. And something else too, naked. Vulnerable. I can’t talk about it. The other boys watch the movie without flinching, their mouths slightly open. I have to remind myself that their background has nothing to do with it. They’re just being normal teen guys, and guys like violence, it gets their adrenaline pumping and their ---- ----. I’m the weird one. Can we watch something else? My house parent smiles, ruffles my hair. Next time we’ll rent a comedy. I want to ask, who gave you permission to touch me? But I don’t, because I’m overreacting again. It’s make-believe, fantasy. I don’t have to watch this movie, I don’t have to feed the darkness. If something triggers you, simply walk away. It’s all behind me now, isn’t it? I can watch something on TV without getting bent out of shape. I can have someone touch me without getting upset. I’m not 12 anymore. I’m not, I’m not, I’m not. My new dance class is all about aggression, sexuality rather than sensuality. It’s “raw” and “dirty” and it makes my heart race. I wipe my sweaty palms on my shorts. My dance teacher tells me to open up, to loosen up, but I can’t. I don’t go near those feelings. That side of myself is closed off, a no-go area. I forget to have fun. I forget why I love to dance. Everything becomes mechanical, rigid. She looks disappointed. I tell her it’s different. Not like ballet or jazz. It won’t kill you to smile once in awhile. Gritting your teeth doesn’t count. It won’t kill you to be like everyone else. Normal.

Choices

I wonder if it’s possible to ”unlearn” everything? Erase myself without any smudges or crinkles, just a blank smooth surface. Next time I’ll choose to be brave, I’ll be the kid jumping off swings in the dark. You won’t recognize me. I’ll say "no" without hesitation, my voice confident and strong. A leader instead of a follower, certain that I belong. I deserve this. I’ll excel at sports and games, I’ll be masculine and tough without even trying. A real guy’s guy. Broad shouldered and handsome, someone you can be proud of. Next time I’ll choose to be straight. I’ll be the perfect cookie cutter son. We won’t know any different.