DIFFERENT Copyright 2000/2005 by Peter (Peter_Co@web.de)
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The german original of this short story was written in 2000 and published on a few websites and in a couple of print magazines. Just for fun I tried to translate it into english, submitting it to the nifty archive, where I'm reading stories since 1997.
Comments are always welcome. --> Peter_Co@web.de
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I never thought I could fall so deep. Just how did I end up here? Barely 18, living a nice, satisfying life only weeks ago. And now? Expeled from my peers, isolated, excluded - a free and easy target for the mockery of the people around me. Only because I'm DIFFERENT.
My life was so easy. Kind of popular, accepted, lots of friends, and even a working love life ;-) But all this is gone now. And only because of my mom. She just couldn't resist the job offer. Not bad, a new job, more money, really nice. But ... not only a new job. A new home, too. Far away from the life of my past, from the place I grew up, from my friends for crying out loud! And now I was thrown into this ... this place. A place where I always will be no more than an outsider.
"Don't worry, Lucas", that's what mom said, "don't worry, I guarantee you there will be others who feel like you." Great! Oh yes, there are a few such people, only a few though. And for each and every one of them their BEING DIFFERENT is the major point of their whole life. No, I can't stand such people, not if my life would depend on them! Always the same talk about the newest conquests in all the graphic details. Not the least attractive to me - not attractive but in fact repulsive. And because I tend to say what I think, I've lost the last chance of being friends with the few people who are DIFFERENT like me.
The others? The ones I'm so DIFFERENT from? Giggling after PE, in the showers where I always retreat to the farthest corner, turning myself to the wall. Faltering conversations as soon as I'm near a group of lively talking class mates. Not to talk about the teasing in the classrooms and corridors. "Hi, Lucky, another weekend alone with your right hand?" "Sweety, interested in a night with me? Oh, sorry, I forgot: you're DIFFERENT."
Why me? Why am I the one to be DIFFERENT? Not that I didn't try to fit in. Ha! I've gone so far to try a romantic night, just for not being DIFFERENT anymore. Of course it ended in a disaster. No, I never could be something what I'm not, someone who I'm not. So I'll continue to be the loner, the one who doesn't fit in anywhere. No friends, not even acquaintances. My friends from the past, the ones I grew up with for 17 years and the ones who accepted me for who I am ... well, we're writing emails to each other on a regular basis, and they feel sorry for me, but can they help me? Nope. No way. Even if there weren't those thousands of miles between us - I doubt that one of them would visit me here. Not that they would be in danger here. I'm not in danger here, oh no. No real threats were ever made, no bodily harm was ever done to me. They all are much to "tolerant" for such things. But I soon found out that too much tolerance often becomes a sign of arrogance and disdain. I guess I could take open aggression better than this "generous toleration" as a more or less acceptable lower beeing which isn't worth the attention of those who are not DIFFERENT.
And after school's out? Everything's fine? Dream on. Wherever I go I get the same contemptuous, mildly amused looks from the people who are not like me, who are not DIFFERENT. Meaning approx. 90 percent of all the people around. I can't remember how often I heard the salesperson breaking out in laughter, the other patrons joining in, after me leaving the newsstand. And only because I bought my favorite mags. Guess I should be thankful he at least sells those "perverse literature". The same goes for buying my music, renting my videos. It's always the same, and I can read it in the faces of the people around. First open interest, than badly hidden surprise, and ending with the pinched faces of someone who barely can hold back his laughter. I'm always glad if they at least wait with their exploding laughter till I'm out of the shop.
My places of retreat? There's only one, our little house, in which I more and more lock myself up, trying to avoid and forget the world of those who aren't DIFFERENT. Four rooms of freedom, without the constant threat of the "normal" world around me. That's the place where I can relax for a while, where I can pity myself without disturbance. The only place where I'm not DIFFERENT. In the past - in another time, hell, in another life - I used to have friends sleeping over all the time. But now? Here? Who wants to share a room with someone who's DIFFERENT?
And what am I doing in my little own world of four rooms? Sitting lonely on my bed, brooding over my situation, writing such bullshit like this. Pure self defence. Of course it doesn't help. I'm sure, I'll never forgive mom for this disaster in my life. Never. Did I tell you that I was doing really good before our move? I did? Okay, I can't say it often enough. One day I was happy and content with the world, and then ... then I'm finding myself here. In San Francisco. In that queer Castro district. At this Highschool of Arts. As one of only a handful of straights amongst hundreds, what do I say: amongst thousands of gays and lesbians!
God, how I hate being DIFFERENT!