Chapter 3

School is another example of propaganda fueled education. Just like television. Half of the what they teach you in any given class is either completely wrong, has some sort of loophole to where it’s ‘not a lie’, or is biased. History is a prime example of this. They don’t tell the political part of Hitler’s mind; only he wanted to kill off the ‘imperfections’. He actually had some real good ideas, but nobody cares about that shit. They need to stop dwelling on some shit. Look forward. I do believe in teaching history, though. Just don’t do a half-assed job of it. I mean, if you’re gonna teach a bunch of kids what mistakes not to make, then you may as well try to tell them what is /good/ to do. Instead you let them watch television and only tell them half the facts, and expect them to be the future presidents, lawyers, shit like that. It makes no fucking sense.

It sounds bad, but sitting in my first period history, I ignored the hell out of the goddamned teacher. I was more focused on the back of Aaron’s head. We only had one class together, which may or may not be a good thing.

I reached up to pet his pretty black hair, all nice and silky. It was something to do, and it was one of Aaron’s weaknesses. He loved to be touched, even in a sexual way you could touch him. He just loved the attention.

Bad thing about Aaron is he was abused as a kid. Like, every fucking way possible. Now he thinks to make people happy he has to be all adorable and submissive and rape-able. If it weren’t for the fact that the world thought that I was either asexual or painfully straight stopped me from being with him. It was more for Aaron’s sake than my own. I didn’t care if they made fun of me, but Aaron was a people pleaser, and even if I told him I was gay, he probably wouldn’t go out with me.

I’m still not sure if I’m gay, though.

I played with the boy’s hair that whole class, and Mrs. Lewinski didn’t say a word.