Sort of.... :-\
Okay, seriously now, I went through a bit of a rebel phase around the end of middle school. I'd been picked on (like many kids) for several months, and finally had enough. I grew my hair out longer (I guess my thinking was that it made me look "tough"), starting lashing out against the teasers a bit, and got in a few fights. Broke one kid's nose...that one got me in a little trouble, but he REALLY had it coming to him, and is probably the only one I don't regret in hindsight.
I was something of a hero to kids that were sick of being picked on, though I ain't so proud of it now.
One of these fights went WAY too far: the only arranged one I participated in, the classic "meet me after school" kind of thing. The catch? It involved knives. I didn't know what the heck I was doing, and fortunately the other kid didn't, either. All the same, I got a cut on top of my hand that has left a nice scar to this day from my knuckles down to my wrist. The other kid really got hurt, and that was the end of that. In our stupid pride, we concocted some story we could tell our folks when we got home (just like we'd concocted a story about why we had to stay late that day), and fortunately nothing else came of it. He turned out to be alright in the end, but I've never been so terrified as when...well, he got hurt.
That was the end of that phase. I couldn't believe what I was doing, and went back to being a guy in the background for a while. I eventually broke out of my cocoon again in high school, though in more constructive instead of
destructive ways.
So there. Now you all know my deep, dark secret. I guess that just shows how comfortable
I am here. Heck, my parents STILL don't know about that. They think I cut myself on a jagged edge of my sister's metal bed frame.
Now, back to frivolity.
Topic: The Other Side of Dain (Read 1015 times)
