on induction day - or one of the first days of secondary, i don't remember. i was with my best friend at the time, A. there was a boy a couple of years above us that led us into the expressive arts faculty. he said there was 'something for the new kids' there, or something along those lines. we followed him, knowing he was bullshitting, but we wanted something to do. we followed him up the big brick steps and into the building, where he led us to the back, near where the corner turns to the art classroom. that place was never lit very well. the walls were baby blue and covered in filth. the carpet was navy, very thin and scratchy, and lined with mud and chewing gum that had turned black with age. most of the school looked like this for years. i think what was MEANT to happen was that his friend would jump from out of a cupboard or something, but a teacher had already put a stop to him. it may have been the art teacher, i don't remember. so he was just awkwardly stood there, and did a short "AAH" at us in hopes that we would jump. we just giggled. the boy that led us in said something similar to "well, we just wanted to scare some year 7s and it didn't quite work, sorry". cool guy. A and i grew to be very different people, and we don't talk anymore. occasionally, she posts things on facebook trying to make me look bad, which is hilarious because it never works. there were many things about our friendship that were very weird and suspect, but i didn't fully pick up on it until after the fact. i don't feel the need to elaborate on it, though. i just take pride in the fact that she can never outdo me, as much as she tried. trust no bitches.
i spent most of my break and lunchtimes just aimlessly walking. i didn't have anyone to talk to most of the time; i felt too different from everyone to really connect with a group, and i just found a lot of the students' behaviours and personalities repulsive. occasionally, someone would spark an actual conversation with me, which was a cool bit of variety. it didn't happen very often, and when it did it wasn't usually successful, because i had a lot of troubles with talking at this time. i had extreme social anxiety and embarrassment and i was almost mute for like a year, sometimes i would only say like 10 words in a day. otherwise, i just did laps around the school over and over again, and occasionally i would find a quiet place to stand or sit and listen to music. usually the offspring or crystal castles. one of those places was a small crevice in the year 7 playground, between a long wall and the side of a classroom building. i would just sit down there and stare at the grass hill and the pigsty on top of it (yes, a literal pig enclosure with pigs). sometimes i would cover myself with my big, puffy, maroon-coloured coat so i didn't have to see anything. i would try to nap, but i was always a bit too awake, and the concrete floor made it harder.
for a lot of year 7, i wore a light grey hoodie with a ton of rips all over it. it was way too big for me, but little 11-year-old me swore by it. i'd bought it on a trip to new york. i got bullied a bit for it, but that didn't have much of an effect on me, because bullying was a daily part of my life that i just expected. and i 'hated everyone' anyway, so their quips didn't impact my self-esteem or anything. i just accepted that i was a totally different species to them. anyway, my favourite comment was probably from an african supply teacher, who asked me if i put my 'jumper' in a blender. my whole class thought that was hilarious, and they were probably just laughing AT me (along with the guy's accent), but i'm gonna say that made them look dumb because i thought it was hilarious too. i also got in a fight with some boy and he made one of the rips in my left shoulder a lot larger. i might still have the jacket somewhere, and it's probably still too big for me. also near the beginning of year 8, i was still wearing it and some dickhead exploded a frube tube in front of me, which stained my jacket and trousers with yoghurt the whole day. bunk ass.
adding onto the fight thing: that started because i was collecting grass, rocks and hair into a cylindrical box. what can i say, the kids were too stupid to talk to. i pretended to be a devil worshipper, and said that the box was my sacrifice to satan, and they went fucking wild over that. those shits really thought they were running a successful bullying campaign, when they actually made me the centre of attention and gave me a massive amount of amusement. it was astounding how dumb they were and i loved it. anyway, this little bitchboy stole the box out my arm and ran. i chased him after it, and we eventually just ended up back where we were, in the year 7 playground. yeah, shit went DOWN there, lmfao. i then tried to fight him to get it back, but we were both shit at fighting so that didn't go anywhere. at this point, there was a massive crowd of equally little kids around us, and eventually i kind of just had a meltdown. sometimes i loved being in the limelight, other times my autism kicked in full gear and i just shut off and wanted to cry. i guess that's still true, but not to such a high degree. i shut my eyes and just started clawing at the crowd, and i pulled some girl's hair and nearly got her on the ground. i didn't know who it was until people told me a few hours after, and it was a girl i went to primary school with. i'm still not proud of that, and i'm sorry for her. not that she even cares now at 18, lmao. i wish i had an explanation beyond being 11 and socially challenged - i genuinely have no idea why i did that, and i don't think i even knew at the time. oh well.
i was a massive crybaby. i would cry at least once a week, and sometimes i would just cry for no discernable reason at all. that calmed down for a couple of years, but it came back around hard in my final year of secondary school, which i will not recount here because it was the worst year of my life and i had every reason to be crying. even if a lot of the time it was completely my fault. i still cry a lot, i suppose my tearducts are just very receptive. it gets pretty embarrassing, because sometimes i really just don't understand why i'm crying at something that is just ever-so-slightly emotional, and i don't want to be crying. especially because it makes me less able to speak and think properly. i practically can't speak at all when i'm like that.