prospects in sight for me, which I
knew was partly my fault.
For starters, I had no
qualifications. Although I’d finished high school, my academic
records did not indicate that I was a good candidate for college.
Throughout my high school years, I had not been involved in any school activities, nor did
I participate in
any social events—no
school dances, nothing whatsoever. I had completely estranged
myself from everything. I did n ot even try to get into any advanced
courses that might have helped prepare me for college. I didn’t
participate in the science club, the chess club, or the reading
club. I was not enrolled in any independent studies that were
offered periodically. In short, I did absolutely nothing to help my academic
career or my social life. Now, my only hope was to get into the
nearest community college.
At that time, I guess that I thought
that exempting myself from all events was the best way to keep
people from noticing me. My art work brought me a little attention,
so I tried to restrain myself so that people would not my talent or
ability. I wished for people not to see me, not to remember me, but
in such a small community, people don’t let you forget.
Starting in my first year of high
school, and with only slight variations, all of the years that
followed while I attended that school, I was known as the “Bride of
the Flying Monster.” Other nicknames emerged—evil and creative,
like “Carrie.” That was
the most interesting one, as far as I can remember. My terrible colleagues spent
their precious time creating all manner of humiliating treatment
with which to torment me. I don’t know which was worse—the
beatings, the stones thrown, or the bullying
humiliation.
The only nice thing about my school
days was the advisers never pressured me to excel. After all,
everyone knew that I had mental problems and they didn’t think that
I could learn anything beyond the basics. Some adults believed that
I could be a dangerous person and that my place was not in
mainstream education among “harmless children.” Oh, yes, they were
very harmless! Not!
How did I know what adults thought
about me? Well, I did not intend to listen to their conversations
from behind doors, but as is so often the case, the stars conspired
to make this happen. Although I didn ’t feel comfortable about the situation, I
had to recognize that spying on the adults there had its advantages
because, in the end, you always find out what they really think
about you, even when they hide their thoughts behind artificial
smiles. Eavesdropping gave me an advantage over them—they couldn’t
fool me, much less hurt me with false displays of
affection.
I lived as if I had an alter ego. In
front of adults, I acted like Peter Parker, but when nobody was
looking, I turned into Indiana Jones. Melissa Baker, who didn’t
open her mouth and didn’t relate to anyone, but when she was alone,
she invented great adventures which she carried out in the forest
and surrounding rural properties. I was always saving the world
from aliens,
finding treasure buried by pirates and conquerors, or chasing
villains created in my fertile imagination, and occasionally spied
on adults—accidentally, of course!
As an invisible being, I felt
powerful and also unattainable. Because I was unfettered, I mapped
all of the area’s byways and created my own hideout in an abandoned
barn, a long-forgotten place in the woods that was still standing.
It was there that I established my drawing studio and where I kept
my treasures and “spoils of war”—books, comics, toys, and my
drawings. The barn was my “fortress of solitude.” Unfortunately,
my double
life could
not prevent what was about to happen. My hideout could not hide me
from life.
Eighteen years old...for all legal
purposes, I’m an adult woman, but I didn’t feel like that.
Actually, I had no aspirations to be an adult. I didn’t know what I
could possibly want as an adult who thought that
knew was partly my fault.
For starters, I had no
qualifications. Although I’d finished high school, my academic
records did not indicate that I was a good candidate for college.
Throughout my high school years, I had not been involved in any school activities, nor did
I participate in
any social events—no
school dances, nothing whatsoever. I had completely estranged
myself from everything. I did n ot even try to get into any advanced
courses that might have helped prepare me for college. I didn’t
participate in the science club, the chess club, or the reading
club. I was not enrolled in any independent studies that were
offered periodically. In short, I did absolutely nothing to help my academic
career or my social life. Now, my only hope was to get into the
nearest community college.
At that time, I guess that I thought
that exempting myself from all events was the best way to keep
people from noticing me. My art work brought me a little attention,
so I tried to restrain myself so that people would not my talent or
ability. I wished for people not to see me, not to remember me, but
in such a small community, people don’t let you forget.
Starting in my first year of high
school, and with only slight variations, all of the years that
followed while I attended that school, I was known as the “Bride of
the Flying Monster.” Other nicknames emerged—evil and creative,
like “Carrie.” That was
the most interesting one, as far as I can remember. My terrible colleagues spent
their precious time creating all manner of humiliating treatment
with which to torment me. I don’t know which was worse—the
beatings, the stones thrown, or the bullying
humiliation.
The only nice thing about my school
days was the advisers never pressured me to excel. After all,
everyone knew that I had mental problems and they didn’t think that
I could learn anything beyond the basics. Some adults believed that
I could be a dangerous person and that my place was not in
mainstream education among “harmless children.” Oh, yes, they were
very harmless! Not!
How did I know what adults thought
about me? Well, I did not intend to listen to their conversations
from behind doors, but as is so often the case, the stars conspired
to make this happen. Although I didn ’t feel comfortable about the situation, I
had to recognize that spying on the adults there had its advantages
because, in the end, you always find out what they really think
about you, even when they hide their thoughts behind artificial
smiles. Eavesdropping gave me an advantage over them—they couldn’t
fool me, much less hurt me with false displays of
affection.
I lived as if I had an alter ego. In
front of adults, I acted like Peter Parker, but when nobody was
looking, I turned into Indiana Jones. Melissa Baker, who didn’t
open her mouth and didn’t relate to anyone, but when she was alone,
she invented great adventures which she carried out in the forest
and surrounding rural properties. I was always saving the world
from aliens,
finding treasure buried by pirates and conquerors, or chasing
villains created in my fertile imagination, and occasionally spied
on adults—accidentally, of course!
As an invisible being, I felt
powerful and also unattainable. Because I was unfettered, I mapped
all of the area’s byways and created my own hideout in an abandoned
barn, a long-forgotten place in the woods that was still standing.
It was there that I established my drawing studio and where I kept
my treasures and “spoils of war”—books, comics, toys, and my
drawings. The barn was my “fortress of solitude.” Unfortunately,
my double
life could
not prevent what was about to happen. My hideout could not hide me
from life.
Eighteen years old...for all legal
purposes, I’m an adult woman, but I didn’t feel like that.
Actually, I had no aspirations to be an adult. I didn’t know what I
could possibly want as an adult who thought that
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