Do you perceive before you observe? Do you judge people before you know their story? Why should you? My mom was the only person who respected me with my sexuality, other than my boyfriend, of course. Everyday I was bullied. It was sad honestly. It was funny though, I was a tall, and slightly muscular. I had black hair and wore glasses. Girls always asked me out, the prettiest in the school, and could never figure out why I rejected them, when there were boys that would fall head over heels for them. Soon, rumours were flying around that I was gay, until finally accepted it. I was gay and one of the only people who respected was dead. The only person who stood beside me with most of my decisions was dead. She never got to see my appreciation. She never did get to see the Tiger Lily that I secretly nurtured and grew, so that I could give it to her on Mother's day. In the first couple of weeks, I put the flower in her room, right be the window beside her bed, so if she woke up she could see it. After she died, I brought the plant back home and continued to maintain it. After I brought it home, it would only be about a week before she would have her funeral. I came up with a plan and speech to say at her funeral. I stood at the podium, right in front of my mom's casket. My boyfriend smiled sympathetically toward me while the crowd spoke in hushed whispers. They knew who I was. I spoke, " Many of you know who I am. My mom was a caring, loving person," the whispering grew louder, subtle, but I still forged on with my speech," she always put herself before me, and I loved her greatly. She made me into the man I am now. She also respected me with most of my decisions, and never told me that I was wrong in my thoughts," I paused, took a breath and continued," because of her I can stand before you now and say, I'm glad you came and thank you, because you were the people, the select few, who listened to my mom and I. Who didn't say that I was an abomination of the human race. You didn't deny my mom the help she needed when she needed it the most. Because of you, I can continue with my life, knowing that I can always rely on you. Thank you." I walked back to my seat, I looked to the crowd. I was finally in a crowd that I felt comfortable with. That didn't care that I was gay, but who accepted me for who I really am. After the rest of the funeral finished. My boyfriend, his brothers, and I carried out the casket to the car and drove to the cemetery. I picked out the plot that my mother would be laid in. It was right under a big, strong Oak tree. The funeral continued, and when we finished covering up her plot I laid that very same Tiger Lily, hoping that it would flourish in the disturbed soil. That's when it hit me. My mother was dead, she wasn't going to come back. I wasn't going to see her bright smile every morning at breakfast, not would I see her throw her monopoly piece at me when I won. Never again. My boyfriend and I drove home together, he tried to initiate conversation, but I refused to comply. In the silence, my thoughts drifted back and forth. Some were good, some were bad. I kept thinking about how I could change what I did if I knew what would happen eventually. What I could have done if I did something differently. Maybe I could have said something nicer, or even helped out with the dishes, it might of gone so much better. Maybe she wouldn't even be dead. My boyfriend seemed to know what I was thinking. He said to me, seemingly out of nowhere, " Jake, you need to stop beating yourself up. This isn't even close to your fault. You did your best as a son. I knew you were her favourite person in her world. She would've done anything for you." "I know," I said, quietly, almost a mumble. "No, I don't think you understand. You're beating yourself up too much. You'll see everything we turn out fine," he said, taking his eyes off the road for just a moment to looking at me. He wasn't smiling like his usual self, but he stared at me as serious as can be. As we drove down the road, he finally began starting conversations again and I finally took the chance to speak. We talked about everything, it just flowed out and by the time we got to my house we were in laughing fits. He stayed over for a couple hours, and watched a movie. I was technically the home-owner now because I had just turned eighteen. So, it was nice to come home to my own house for a couple hours before I went to work. Since, the funeral was on Saturday, I was still expected to go to school on Monday and spend a normal week at school. At school, the bullying had gone down a bit, only because all of the teachers we keeping a close eye on me. There were kids who still sneered at me and mouthed threats, but I tried to ignore them. I wondered how Spencer was doing. I hope he wasn't dealing with the same crap he usually did. He was having the same trouble I was having. After school, I dropped Spencer off at his house and went home.
Great, like the previous one! I would really like to see how this continues! You don't mind if I correct mistakes, right? You said "You'll see everything we turn out fine," what should be "You'll see everything will turn out fine," I think.
Thanks, for the encouragement! I really appreciate it. As for the corrections, I don't mind, thanks for pointing it out, I didn't notice it.
I'd also like to chime in and hope for a continuance someday. Thing is about writing (in my opinion); first and foremost you do so because you like doing it, and second because you hope it'll also amuse / please others. This may sound terribly selfish, and in a way I guess it is. But its what usually works best for me; do write-ups (as I like to call them) because you like writing. Then everything else will easily fall into place. SO yeah, I like the story so far as well.
