I was called a name today, some thing that really strikes me to the core. It honestly was a name I had heard before, but had been able to always shrug off. This time however, it really got to me. How could someone call me it? Even better, WHY would they? I never understood, and I am not sure if I ever will.
The labels we use towards people are, in my opinion, hard wired into us. We LIKE to label, we like to organize, categorize, and put things where they go. We call someone a bitch, so we can put them in the bitch box, or we call someone a fat-hole, so we can label them as such. Nice neat little boxes for everyone and every thing. After all everything must have a name and everything must a have a place. The name I was called though, puts me in a category that really bothers me, even though it shouldn’t.
The name I was called? I was called a “friend”! My first thought is, they know me right? They must be mistaken, I don’t make friends. In fact, I am 199% sure I just annoy everyone, and they simply put up with me, hoping I will leave soon. I am talkative, opinionated, fat, and rather annoying in general. Still people keep calling me that name! Trying to label me and put me in a box.
I will impersonate a child, a boy, about 10 years of age. The setting, mid 90’s in central Florida, suburban area. This child, being overly hyper often found himself in trouble during school. Due to this trouble he was placed in a separate class for other similar children. Think of it as a jail for school kids, with all the “bad” kids lumped together. In this class our character, frank, was not well liked, teased and bullied everyday. One day another boy in the class, Peter, came up to befriend frank! Despite being mocked and bullied by Peter in the past, frank accepted this friendship. Frank told himself that people change and maybe it was finally time for him to have friends.
They talked often, and soon Frank found out that Peter lived in the same sub-division! Peter invited him over one afternoon to play some video games and hang out. Frank was excited, no one ever ever ever invited him to do things! In fact one year no one even showed up for his birthday party, but that is a different story. Frank got on his bike and started off towards Peters house, but being out of shape it took him a little longer to get there. Arriving out of breath near his house, he got of his bike and started looking for the house number.
“Hey Fat Fucker!” Frank heard Peter yell. Turning towards the noise he saw a group of boys in from of a garage, laughing and pointing at him. In the center stood Peter, his hand clutched something, and soon Frank was going to find out what it was. As Peter started walking towards him, he brought up to his shoulder the item he was carrying, a lead pipe.
“Hey look, fatty showed up! Perhaps we should beat the fat out of him?”
What happened next though was not to be expected. Instead of running away, like most people would, Frank started walking towards him. “Bring it on!” he shouted. Peter was shocked and stood still. Frank had about double the weight on him, and perhaps the lead pipe didn’t seem like such a good idea. Peter started backing up, Frank kept coming a bit closer.
“You want to start something? I WILL finish it, now let me leave or else!” Frank shouted with a commanding tone.
Peter and his crew decided that today wasn’t a good day to “die” and all went back into the garage. Frank got back on his bike and started home. Yet before he got home he stopped by and empty playground. Dropping his bike to the ground he went and sat next to a near by tree, and cried. He realized, from that day forward, no body could REALLY be his friend. NOBODY EVER!
Thus ends the sad tale of Frank, whom in case you didn’t know was really me. So when people call me friend, it is always hard for me to accept it, and I struggle when it seems that so many people actually like me. Though slowly, I will learn that they mean it, and to accept it.