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Since this page is already getting views (How? There's literally no CSS yet) I've decided to post one of my pieces here for you to (hopefully) enjoy while I get the rest of the site up and running. Goodluck, I'm still learning how to format things.
Early September, one of my friends sent me this video and I think it fits perfectly with thie piece.
Please note: I'm going back and forth with what to make public and what to keep private about myself so in this version I've adjusted a few things from the original piece that I might put back when I update this as a real portfolio site. This piece is also about due for another round of reworking so the final posted version might be slightly different as well.
I do not know whether to thank you or curse you. We were thirteen when you destroyed me. For six years, we were inseparable, until that day. You were the one who got me into collecting Pokémon cards, and I got you into Digimon. You bought an entire tub of Digimon figures and we spent countless days running around your house nearly unsupervised, going on adventures and fighting our favorite monsters against one another until my pile of defeated monsters laid in heaps around you.
In response, you showed me Naruto. We’d spend day after day playing pretend; you playing the hero, the stronger, the smarter, the faster of us always molding the stories we told. I was just happy to be there, to play a supporting role. Sometimes I was Argolith the Mad, a mad scientist building an army of mutant ninja to take over the Leaf Village, while you dispatched every one of my minions in swift meticulous movements until you got to, and killed me. Sometimes I’d join you on your quest to rank up from ninja school to become grand heros at your side. While other times you were the big evil, and no matter how many groups of heros I led against you, we were vanquished time and time again, and the gloats from you which followed.
You kindled my love of video games. Before you, I only knew the point and click education games and Pokémon. You introduced me to: the three-dimensional world of Zelda in Wind-Waker, the mini-game creation abilities of the Halo Level Designer, and the ever re-skinning nature of sports and fighting games like FIFA and Digimon Rumble. You introduced me to the internet. I still remember the shrieks of your modem when you pulled that up. I was afraid that we’d broken your computer. But beyond all else, you showed me Runescape. Or as you called it Run-Escape, which was a far more fitting title, as even walking to the first major city resulted in several deaths as those black-robed cultists struck me down with their powerful magics. My only way forward was to run past them. Your way forward was to fight through them, and you did.
The summer of 2008 was quite different. We had both just turned twelve, and you became hyper-focused on masculinity. What a time for that fixation. From sun up to sun down we could always be found outside, when the temperature rarely dropped below 80. You became focused on the building of muscles and our activities shifted to more and more extreme. We began adding fitness challenges to our games — though we’d never call them that — from races, to climbing, to push up contests, and even the one-sided sparring matches. Those… were never fun. When I failed to keep up with you, I’d always experience a loser penalty. Though it changed from day to day, it was always some form of pain, be it a side jab or an Indian rug burn. Before the summer’s end, you were always gushing and showing off your newly acquired ‘six-pack’ as much as you could, though you hadn’t even gotten past two. I just nodded and kept my mouth shut.
In this fashion, we spent our days. Until your sister came over with your niece. Looking back, your niece was sweet and well-meaning, though her incessant chatter was infuriating. She was eight, a persistent little shadow, always butting into our games. I always sat back as you shoved her out of your room, yelling obscenities and degradations at her, but a few minutes later, she’d just barge her way back in as if nothing had just happened. She was probably just lonely. Your mom spent so many hours with your sister, and your dad was always at work. She probably found us the most interesting thing in that house, but we didn’t see things that way. We were trying to play, yet here she was, always barging in and making us stop. Day after day, the cycle continued; I always let you handle her. Why not? She was your niece, and besides, you were the stronger one, the smarter one, the one who always knew how to make things turn out alright.
I don’t remember what we were doing that night; the one where I had enough. We were inside your room, that is for certain. We might have been on your Xbox 360, or maybe we were trying out your sisters’ Super Nintendo. Whatever it was, I guess your niece came in one time too many. After already being kicked out multiple times, she came in one more time. With a sigh, I simply stood up, strode over to her, and then with all the force I could muster, shoved her small frame down to the floor. I hadn’t said anything, no yells, no insults. I froze with fear in the silent, suffocating basement; as I tried to breathe in, an invisible weight prevented air from flowing back into my lungs. I watched as she toppled. Her eyes wide and mouth fallen agape. After she fell the weight lifted. She pushed herself up and ran for the stairs, crying, “Dcat shoved me!” I turned back to you, and the smile splayed across your face. You didn’t say anything, you didn’t need to. The pride I felt burning in my chest told me you finally approved. When your mom came downstairs with your niece; the weight reappeared, trapping me in a veil unspeaking with a burning just behind my eyes. She must have asked questions, but you took charge and answered her. Then the veil broke as your mom said, “If she said you shoved her, I’d believe it, but Dcat?”
Those words from your mother told me everything. I actually had power. My quiet demeanor wasn’t the weakness you used against me. It was a tool, one that when used sparingly, was always super effective. Your niece proved that by never bothering us again. You shoved her down and degraded her countless times, yet when I calmly intervened once she stopped. I had solved a problem that you could not. I was proud; I stepped out of my comfort zone, followed your example, and succeeded. Though, that was with the eyes of a child, and a stupid one at that. So focused on seeking the approval of one such as you. Your niece did not deserve it. I would have been better off without you as my role model. Nevertheless, even with that acknowledgment; I still have just one question for you.
Why? Why did you abandon me how you did? We had been friends for all our lives. We spent everyday together and talked about everything. There were no secrets between us. We’d talk about new shows, new games, girls. I was your sounding board for complaints about the others and school. You taught me so much, improved my strength and dexterity. So when that day came around in sixth grade English, you took me completely by surprise.
I can’t remember the day or month, it was a day like many others. I do remember running late; I had been shoved to the ground and my locker was slammed shut on me, but it was fine. It didn’t matter. You toughened me up, and I could let Brea’s actions wash over me without any reaction. Though that cost me time and when I finally made it to class, the murmuring of our classmates’ conversations were already falling quiet. I rushed in and sat my stuff on the only available desk in our pod, the foot of the table, directly across from you. By the time I sat, the room had fallen silent and our teacher stood to speak; you looked towards me and spoke those words, magnified by the silence as if spoken through a megaphone, “Dcat, you should sit somewhere else.”
Just like that. No warning. It felt as if I’d been doused by a bucket of ice water. I heard you, but I didn’t hear you. The previous day, we’d hung out as usual. I felt my breath catch in my chest and my eyes burn against my will. I just sat there frozen, wrestling with myself as our teacher began to speak.
“You should sit somewhere else,” your repeated statement shocked me into motion. I stood - something unheard of once our teacher was talking - turned and grabbed the only other seat available. Crossing the room was an absolute agony. We had been sitting clear across the room, next to the teacher’s desk. The closest unoccupied desk was near the door. The entire time, I was keenly aware of all the eyes on me. How many people heard you? I’ll never know that answer. Maybe you were quiet, but it felt deafening. No one said anything about the incident, even after the class. Our teacher must have known something was up, because she hadn’t said anything and only once I had sat down did she continue her instruction. No pink slips appeared, nor summonses to speak after class.
Sixteen years have now passed; I’ve now lived life longer without you than with. A child born that day during class might now at the very minute be learning to drive. Yet after all this time I still think of you. I shouldn’t. I despise what you did, both that day and all the days prior. I’d like to think I’m better off now. That I’ve unlearned the forceful tactics you used to seize control. I’m not yelling obscenities at annoying customers, I’m not starting fights. Yet still even if I’m not using your tactics, like you, I’m taking charge. I’m the one scheduling events. I’m the one choosing the activities. I’m the one forming groups of people and selecting the proper words to convince them to behave in different ways. I’ve climbed my way up at work and have seen things fall apart once I move on. Even when I’m not in a position of leadership, I usually get what I want. Why wouldn’t I? I’m usually quiet, in the background, minding my business and getting the job done. I only force issues when needed, only raise my voice and object when everything else fails. The opposition is always surprised into silence and simply follows my lead.
Who am I kidding? I’m just as conceited as you.
So why do I do this?
I last saw you four years ago near midnight. I was mopping the floor, the smell of disinfectant heavy in the air, when you walked in. I met you at the register for your energy drink purchase. We didn’t talk much. I don’t even know if you recognized me. I knew instantly, from the acrid smell clinging to your clothes, that you had picked up your mother’s old habit. That was a surprise to me; we never talked about her smoking. She always kept it away from us. Only smoking outside and quickly changing once she was done. The smell was always faint on her. That wasn’t the case with you.
A few weeks after I saw you, a customer told me he was moving out west with you to start life under your label as a musician. I’ve never heard of you or him since.
I haven’t looked for you. I haven’t even asked about you. I could. Your mom still lives right down the hill, and I frequently see her when I come home talking with my mom in the kitchen.
You haven’t been a factor in my life for all these years. So why can’t you learn not everything is about you!? Yet here I am, the one dedicating these pages to you, when you probably haven’t even thought of me since 2009. It’s over, hell it’s been over for nearly two decades and yet clearly I’m the one who’s not over you. I’m not like you, I keep telling myself that, but even now I see us as the same. I don’t know if I should curse you. I don’t even know if I should thank you. I don’t even know who you are now.