Nihilist Cowboy

A Sick Man, A Spiteful Man, An Unattractive Man
2021-02-07 16:42:28 (UTC)

Alienation from others 2

Alienation from Others 2

8th Grade Fall 2004

Where we left off last time, I discussed my pretty bad 7th grade year. That was the year that I started “liking girls,” experienced bad bullying for the first time. Going into the 8th grade, I was somewhat optimistic, and believed the worst was behind me. Things just needed to get better.

However, I got the certified letter in the mail stating that my dad was moving back to Texas and he listed out days that I had to go visit him. The situation that unfolded is exactly like one would imagine; the crap from the previous school year regarding the bullying and my obsession with getting a girlfriend, and now with my dad returning I would have to return to the abusive situation every other weekend.

The first few visitations were not totally awful. Dad took back his old master bedroom that was my prison cage 3 years prior. I was given a corner in the converted garage that was turned into a second living room. The converted garage was a huge room with a TV and couches on one side closest to the kitchen, and Dad’s treadmill on the other. In the 3rd corner was one of the beds from the old bunk bed against the corner. That is where I slept. Amazingly the first few visitations were not totally awful, Dana did not run her mouth during the first two months of my forced visitation.

I need to sidetrack for a moment to tell a quick story. A crisp October Friday night in 2004, I had just to Dad’s house about 2 hours prior. Kristi wanted to go on a walk around the corner to a friend’s house and I followed her to a house on the corner. Sitting on the retaining wall over the curb by the stop sign were two girls who were Kristi’s classmates. One of them appeared to be older possibly about 16, she was heavyset, wearing a pink shirt and jeans that were typical of the 2000s, thin glasses that were fashionable back then, and long dyed black hair. I thought she was gorgeous but being so much younger I did not say a word. At that moment I decided my “dream girl” has dark hair, glasses, and “not skinny.” From here on out, if someone met that demographic, I would totally fall in love with them. That pattern has happened dozens of times in the past 15 years. Anyways, let’s get back to the story at hand. We can discuss Zach’s preferences of beauty some other time.

Remember how during the 7th grade, I spent the entire year being obsessed with Brittni, the first girl I “liked?” You would think with the bad time I had that I would have learned my lesson. Long story short, I didn’t. Who was the person I became obsessed with this year? Her name was Morgan. Morgan transferred from another school around October, around the same time as the aforementioned story.

I saw Morgan for the first time in my 4th period keyboarding class. She came into the classroom and started to sit at the computer next to me. Morgan was tall, taller than me; she dressed in upscale mall clothing, brown hair with blonde streaks (totally 2000s). However, Morgan was a super tomboy and one of those people that played in every sport.

My nerves were so bad, and I was so meek, so I could barely even utter a “hi” to her. Eventually I was able to somewhat strike up a conversation. A month later I nervously asked Morgan for her email address, I was too chicken to ask for her phone number. After being picked up from granny’s I would go home and boot up the pos Windows 95 and get on “ye old Hotmail” and see if I got a message from Morgan. Then I would refresh the page, 5 minutes go by… refresh the page. I could not even have a regular conversation with Morgan because I was so nervous, Yet I was obsessed.

You may ask” Now Zach, how is this so terrible, you were just some weird kid, why does your past give you an all-encompassing feeling of alienation?” Well, there is more to the story. I also wanted male friends, did not work in the way that I wanted it to work either, however wanting friends was definitely on the back burner comparing to having a relationship. The bullying never let up, and in some cases it intensified. Due to me being this crazy obsessed, awkward, and ugly kid, I was a perfect target. Instead of going to granny’s every single day of the week, I started walking the 2 blocks from the school to home. At the corner of the school road and my street stood a trailer house. Inside this house lived Jeff who was eventually the defensive captain of the football team when we got to high school. Jeff ended up being my biggest bully from 8th grade to graduation.

You may ask” Now Zach, how is this so terrible, you were just some weird kid, why does your past give you an all-encompassing feeling of alienation? Well, there is more to the story. I also wanted male friends, did not work in the way that I wanted it to work either, however wanting friends was definitely on the back burner comparing to having a relationship. The bullying never let up, and in some cases it intensified. Due to me being this crazy obsessed, awkward, and ugly kid, I was a perfect target. Instead of going to granny’s every single day of the week, I started walking the 2 blocks from the school to home. At the corner of the school road and my street stood a trailer house. Inside this house lived Jeff who was eventually the defensive captain of the football team when we got to high school. Jeff ended up being my biggest bully from 8th grade until high school graduation. I had to pass his house walking home. He waited outside for me. It started out as laughing at me, shit talking and what not. Then it became physical. He would invite his friends over to watch me get thrown down. One day that fall he invited his girlfriend and another football player CJ to his house. He grabbed me and shoved me to the ground. He told his two spectators that he was going to force me to “suck it.” With some reserve of strength, I did not know I had, I pushed him off me and ran like hell down the road and made it home.

A quick side note: During that October, GTA San Andreas came out and I probably played 500 hours on it throughout the year. I was totally obsessed, but I think everyone was equally obsessed.

As the fall wore on the conditions of my biweekly visitations at my dad’s house began to deteriorate. Dana’s shit worsened, her quotes of “you’re white trash just like your mother” continued. During Christmas break, things came to a boiling point. Dad sent another letter certified mail stating that I had to spend the entire two and a half week long Christmas break at his house. Immediately it went awful, I got out of school one day earlier than Kristi and Lauren, so I was stuck with Dad and Dana. For some reason, they had to go to Dallas, and I was stuck going with them. Sitting in the backseat, they started to talk about me. I was trash, I was a piece of shit, a liar, manipulator. They turned around to yell at me, and that was one of the times I can remember being told that I would amount to nothing. According to Dana, my adulthood would consist of drugs, welfare, and prison. The car stopped and Dana went inside a hospital in Downtown Dallas, maybe it was a job interview. Dad and I walked across the street and sat in a café, and he put his arm around me like nothing ever happened. Kristi went to spend a few days at her biological father’s house, so I was stuck there alone without any support. The abuse tended to happen less when Kristi was around. With her being gone, things tended to get even worse.

Wednesday December 22, 2004

It was a freezing cold cloudless morning; the wind was blowing hard from the north. Lauren and I were sitting in the converted garage watching TV. She was wearing a pair of kid’s cowboy boots and decided to kick me in the nuts. Well, being a 13 year old, I went and was going to get her back, right before I did Dana walked in “Don’t touch my daughter you fucking piece of shit!” She walked up to me, screamed in my face, and started hitting her knuckle against my chest bone. I felt the rage building up inside of me, I was not going to be treated like this anymore. So, I pushed her away from me. “You punched me you delinquent” she yelled at me while punching her knuckle on my chest. She grabbed me and shoved me out of the back door. I was wearing shorts, t-shirts, and no socks or shoes. Before she closed the door, I was ordered to rake the entire backyard along with “your father will deal with you when he wakes up tonight.” Standing out in the backyard, I was absolutely freezing. It was probably high 30s, low 40s starting out. Not enough for frostbite, but just enough to be miserable. I sat at the picnic table in the back and just laid my head down and started to cry. I wanted this to be over, I wanted Granny, I wanted Morgan, I wanted my mother, I just wanted someone to save me. The sun rising made the temperature rise to the upper 40s in direct sunlight. I pulled the table over to a sunny spot in the yard and laid there to try and get warm. I took the rake and attempted to pick up leaves, but the walking over the acorns hurt my bare feet. Around 5pm, I was told to go inside and “wash up” I could not feel my feet anymore. I walked into the bathroom to clean the dirt from my hands and feet, I heard quick footsteps and before I could even turn my head, I was shoved against the wall by Dad and he just started screaming: “If I ever hear of you hitting Dana again, I will fucking kill you!” I tried to explain that I was just defending myself, but he would not listen to me. “As your father, I decided who “punishes” you and who doesn’t.” He then walked out like nothing happened. After two weeks of isolation, I was finally able to go back home and back to school.

February 12, 2005

We had our Valentine’s Day dance at school. My nerves were absolutely shot. I dressed in jeans, my ragged DC shoes, and a red Hawaiian shirt. It was a rare East Texas snowstorm that night and snow was falling hard. Mom drove me the couple hundred yards down to the school cafeteria where the dance was taking place. I walked in from the cold outside into the cafeteria which was warm filled with the body heat of everybody. The lights were turned off and a fixture was on the middle of the floor that gave a disco ball effect lighting up the floor and walls with sparkling patterns of light. After sitting in the corner alone for what felt like hours, one of the teachers on the makeshift DJ booth announced that they were about to play the last song. I knew this was my one and only shot to ask Morgan to dance with me, I ran over to her and asked her to have the last dance with me. She begrudgingly agreed to dance while her friends were snickering about the entire situation. The last song was some slow Usher song I think if I am recalling this correctly. She put her hands loosely on my shoulders and I put my hands on her waste and we did what could be considered a cringey stereotypical middle school dance. After the dance was over Mom was waiting outside for me and I jumped in the car feeling energized that I was able to dance with my dream girl.

Two days later on Monday, I got home from school and asked Morgan to be my girlfriend via email (because I was too much of a chickenshit to ask in person). Of course, her answer was no. It went something along the lines of:

“Zachary, you are really sweet, but I only see you as a friend, and I have a boyfriend and I just don’t see you in that way.”

Tuesday February 15, 2005

That day was going to be my last. I had no will to continue to live my life. I was the embodiment of what Dad and Dana thought of me thrown in with whatever Jeff, CJ, and their friends’ conception of me. I just wanted to end it, my dad did not live me, I did not have any friends, and no girls wanted to be with me. Just like any other day I got off the school bus at Granny’s house, walked inside the house and ate my snack. I then walked into the back bedroom and grabbed Granny’s boot pistol that was sitting on the gun rack. I slid it into my pocket and went out into the wooded area behind the house. I came into a small clearing in the woods where her donkeys would like to sit. This was it, no more rejections, no more abuse. I put a bullet into the chamber, took off the safety, and put the cold steel against my temple. In just seconds my entire continuous pain that was my existence would come to an end, I would feel peace for the first time in my life. I took a deep breath and squeezed the trigger. The gun misfired, I squeezed again, and it did not go off. Taking the barrel off my head I outstretched my arm and pointed the gun into the woods and boom; it went off. At that moment I could feel my heart about to come out of my chest and I dropped the gun on the dirt. I stood there for what felt like hours, but most likely was 10 minutes at tops. I picked up the gun, put it back in my pocket and placed it back on the gun rack. Nobody ever knew.

On that Friday, I was supposed to go to my biweekly visitation from hell. I took the bus to Granny’s after school that day. Dad was going to pick me up at 5pm. At 6pm, Granny called my dad and no answer. Eventually by 8, Granny called my mother to come get me since Dad was a no show. It would later turn out that I would never have to go back to his house for visitation again.
The same week I attempted suicide, Kristi finally had enough of the abuse that she was receiving from Dad and Dana. While at school, she called her biological father to come pick her up. At 15 years old, she left everything she owned behind that did not fit into her backpack. Out of embarrassment, Dad just decided to not pick me up. I guess he figured that it would give my mom ammunition to actually stop the visitations, who knows.

In April, I was sitting in my room playing Tony Hawk’s Underground 2 on the PlayStation during a pleasant Saturday morning. The phone rang and I picked it up “Where were you son? I wanted to see you this weekend, but I guess you didn’t care to see me. Anyways I wanted to inform you that due to you not loving your father, I made the decision to return with my family to the Caribbean, see you in a few years, bye.” That moment was one of the most freeing events of my entire life. Unlike when I was 10 years old, my dad did not come back again. I saw him once at 15 and once at 16, and that was it until he moved back to Texas, alone when I was 21. Walking outside, I felt the cool air blowing and it felt more “real.”

8th grade was coming to an end. I felt just as isolated as ever. I had no friends, no girlfriend, I was the weird kid who just did not fit in anywhere. Dad was gone, but he called every now and then to start his shit. By 9th grade, was able to finally find a small friend group, but to no avail on the other thing, but we will continue this discussion next time.




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