Confused, Bereft, & Alone

This is about troubles in high school and a foolish fight I started.

 Confused, Bereft, & Alone

 

In the days of my adolescence I became a rebel without a clue. I challenged administrators uncertain of what to do. Expelled for misunderstandings in their minds, my heart turned to stone, and I was confused, bereft, and alone. I bottled up emotions of my hateful past but the image of a tough guy I tried to create never lasted for very long, nor maintained its place.

Brewing anger manifested one day in a mist, and a hint of rain, when I threw a punch in a foolish attempt to stop mockery from a classmate. I failed to realize what I had to do following that first strike so I got injured by the subsequent reaction in the fight. I wasn’t flighty on my toes so I got a broken nose. I failed to recognize this was someone who would never be a friend of mine. I guess I was just having a bad day. I’m sure we’ve all had one of those.

Once that angry young man wore a black leather jacket and I sure looked good in it, but somehow its drive dimmed my affect. I wore black most of the time. Back then black was a favorite color of mine. Yet there was a good deal of contrivance to this look for me. And it wasn’t just because I had to roll up the sleeves of my leather jacket so it wouldn’t be so obvious that I was planning to grow into it. Funny thing is I no longer fit into that jacket that stood betraying my false sense of being a tough guy, and that I couldn’t let myself hate anyone.

I was told once in a writer’s group, “I can totally see that character...the one with the rolled-up sleeves on his leather jacket trying to act all hard core.” He was a contrivance of my mind, a man who lacked respect for himself, let alone anyone else. When I could no longer conceal my anger in witty comments that made everyone laugh, repressed anger boiled to the surface. These comments were completely misunderstood because people failed to recognize my pain and how it led to my being up to no good.