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Of course, nothing would do and he was what motivated her to live but she didn’t mean enough to him, so the poor thing killed herself. Winter 1996- “I need to talk to my pastor. That’s what I’ll do. I’ll explain the whole deal to him. Tell him I got this problem and I need a little help. Bada bing bada boom (snaps fingers) I’ll be all fixed up in time for high school and no more barriers.” I put the soap back on the tray in the shower then reached for the knob to turn off the water. My pep talk had actually given me hope and I was relieved for the moment. “Good Josh, now just get your ass through junior high.” The parents worked early every morning so I was left alone with my thoughts which I tended to vocalize. After all, there’s nothing wrong with talking to yourself. It’s good for you. I would get a ride to school with my neighbor across the street. That day at school was like every other day. Reading, writing, ‘rithmetic, and Bible. Crossroads Christian Junior High had a mere 46 students, and me. I was a loner and not really by choice. I had this intense fear of people finding out my secret so I kept to myself. In life, confidence is a necessity and a severe lack of it, in my case, sets you apart from everyone else and there’s nothing you/I desire(d) more than to be like all the other “normal" kids. I would be louder, tougher, outgoing, involved, liked, respected, cool, a regular guy. I could jump higher, run quicker, swim faster. I’d just a better person in general. No no, don’t feel bad. You won’t later. I had a few friends but the inferiority was getting too much for me. I needed something to happen. I was hoping for a miracle. Next Day- “I hate when days have to start like this.” I said to myself as I stepped into the shower. Most days are alright but some days I wake up without an ounce of optimism or hope. “It’s fuckin’ bullshit! The idea of it. I’m just gonna pull the pastor aside after a service on Sunday morning and say, ‘Pastor Rodger. Josh Conrad.’ I’d say, shaking his hand. ‘I think I’m gay. Can you ask the Lord to make me straight? Thank you.” I would say sarcastically. “I have no reason to believe that it would work.” I was inviting a dialogue but only a dramatic monologue would take place that morning in the shower. “I don’t know how I convince myself that it even would work or that You even exist. I rely on a belief, an idea put there by my teachers and a book, that you might be up there but I cannot understand how, if you did create me; create me with this flaw that I cannot overcome. You’re holding me back from greatness God! Don’t you know?! I will not live like this.” Reduced to a slump but still angry as hell I yelled, “I can’t live like this!” There was a long silence. Maybe about 20 seconds. But if God ever decided to make an appearance or show me some sign of existence it should have been then, at that moment. I was looking for anything. If the phone rang just then or if a rooster crowed I would have instantly been a believer and all hope would have returned. But there was no ring and no rooster crowed. “You don’t ever respond.” I got dressed and went to school. Reading, writing, ‘rithmetic, and Bible as usual. By the way, this is not supposed to be a “woe is me” story. I’m a crazy cat and not perfect by any means. I desire no sympathy for I have done my share of fucked up things. Once when I was 7 or 8 I ran out of orange finger paint so I put my two goldfish in the blender. My teacher told me that animals can’t go to heaven because they have no souls. I saw little animals as toys that moved by themselves. I thought they had no feelings so I didn’t think twice about it and my only regret was that it didn’t come out the right shade (because of the guts) and I ruined two perfectly good fish for nothing.
Approximate Word count = 2856
Approximate Pages = 11.4
(250 words per page double spaced)
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