SUNLIGHT YELLOW OVERDRIVE

so no writing or updates till around about Thursday next week. Apologies.

My friend Chelsea got this poem a while back from a guy she’d known for little less than a month and had spoken to about three times. Enjoy the hilarity:

‘Sunshine.’

This poem was written for and dedicated to Chelsea. I hope you enjoy it.

Chelsea…you are my sunshine,

              You provide the light in the dark, dank cave that is life.-

Bright, bright, with all your might,

              You make disappear all that is despair and strife.-

With your blue, but ever-changing eyes,

              Beautiful, as they are alluring, providing a sense of safety.-

With your cute smile,

              Sweet like honey, oh so irresistible you are for me.-

With your velvety hair,

              As majestic and free as untamed steed roaming in an open field.-

With your perfect form,

              Your skin smooth, your tone radiant, your pose elegant,

Making a man in your presence become mesmerized and yield.-

You’re a guardian angel, as loving as you are ever vigilant…

              You glow with an aura of a goddess, and yet you are just a mortal,

                             But then again, you are more than a mere being of humankind.-

You are unique, you are extraordinary…

You are Chelsea…

                            You are my sunshine.-

Year 9 of school was a great year. I gained about a foot in height and spent my time playing GameCube at home or wandering the seafront. I recall one dark, snowy evening walking around with Sam and Laura. We were walking up a path and a group of around 10-15 “troubled youths” (as kindly as I care to describe them) crossed the road. I wasn’t expecting trouble so I was surprised when two of them punched me in the face in quick succession. I stumbled off towards a nearby supermarket while they focused on Sam. They circled him and beat him to the ground. He started laughing (Sam is strange like that. One time he attempted to murder me), which luckily enough for him discouraged the fuckheads laying in to him and they stopped. During the whole ordeal they didn’t lay a finger on Laura.

-My beloved GameCube <3

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Another time I got chased by a drunk and delirious twelve year old who thought I’d knocked over his bike. He repeated the sentence “Here mate, have you touched my bike?” a total of 7,305 times. After I had replied “no, I haven’t, I don’t know who touched it” the same amount of times, he took a swing for me and gave chase. I managed to outrun him, mainly due to the fact that he was pissed out of his skull.

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ANOTHER time I got slapped by a guy (yes, you read that correctly, slapped) because I told one of my friends that he was “funny” in primary school. I got sent for like something out of the Godfather and he asked me what I had said about him. I explained that I was telling my friend that he was funny. He then proceeded to slap me (like a little bitch I may add) and told me to fuck off.

-“Are you calling me funny?”

-my face when I see him years later and he looks like a mess and asks me for a light for his cigarette.

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I regret not fighting back in all of the above circumstances but I guess I was smaller and weaker back then. I was (and still am) a gigantic pussy when it comes to physical violence, and being violent is just not in my nature. Not that the entirety of Year 9 was a big fucking fight, but a lot of it was.

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Aside from the numerous fights (which in primary school we used to call “Barneys” for some strange reason), there was a lot of love to be shared. Our little group is not so little any longer, and on sunny lunchtimes we spent our time on the field messing around. The Year 9 roster looks something like this:

-Me

-Sam

-Ryan

-Patrick

-Laura

-Steph

-Andy (guy we’ve known since primary school)

-Ronnie (guy we’ve known since primary school)

-Brodo (mutual friend of Ronnie’s)

-Chalky (mutual friend of Ronnie’s)

-Nigel

-Josh (guy we’ve known since primary school).

I walked home with Nigel and Josh every day, who were best friends at the time. Ronnie, Brodo and Chalky were also a tight “sub-circle” of best friends at the time.

And so another year at Hogwarts Monkwearmouth passed. I was in Year 8. I was 12-13 years old. And as we get older, things change. We started to see less and less of Alex and Hannah, until they had become all but blurred into the faded background of faceless students. Our tutor groups were for some reason mixed around this year, and we met some new friends through it. We became particularly close with two guys Ryan and Patrick, who were both noticeably small compared to Sam and I.

-I freaking wish

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Sam, Joe and I were fans of Max and Paddy’s Road to Nowhere and we talked for hours and hours about how one day we’d get a mobile home of our own and travel England like Max and Paddy. We were such naive dreamers back then.

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At some point during the year, something happened which I still think about to this day. Joe moved away. It wasn’t a sudden move; his parents had told him and his house was put up for sale. And, I don’t know, I think about how differently things would’ve turned out had he not moved. He was my best friend and it sucked so badly that he had to move away. It was a hard adjustment to deal with but I was helpless to change anything. He was gone.

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Back at school, Sam briefly dated Laura and Patrick and Ryan became part of the group. I’m not great with change, but although I missed Joe dearly and I wanted my best friend back, I also welcomed newcomers to the group. Year 8’s roster is as follows:

-Me

-Sam

-Ryan

-Patrick

-Laura

-Steph

Time passes. And time passed. We three musketeers were growing up, and fast. No longer were we kids. We were kids in secondary school.  Yes, our first year, Year 7 (ages 11-12) was fun. The world (the school’s quad, rather) was our playground. Anything felt possible. We made new friends. We fucked about in class and never paid attention to anything. It was just generally a great year for me.

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We terrorized other kids at school not in a bullying way, but more of a trolling way. For instance, a guy in the year above us was being a dick, and he happened to wear dark shaded glasses, so his nickname for the next 4 years became “Blind Gary”. His name wasn’t even Gary.

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We, the three of us, made four particularly significant friends. Their names were Laura, Alex, Hannah and Steph. We were all in the same tutor group and we got along very well indeed. We used to go on the school field every lunchtime and eat by a big broken stone wall on the grass. It was really a time when you’re young, innocent and happy. I loved my life and I loved my friends.

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Towards the end of the year, Sam, Joe and I made a video for geography. It was so much fun to make and the three of us became very close best friends after it. I can safely say this is one of the best times of my childhood:

-The pink is fitting because at this age I still sounded like a girl or a choirboy. I now notice that the transvestism is a running theme throughout my stories.

-Joe attacking me with a golf club.

Joe, Sam and I. I look like a fat charv but at least I lost it all eventually!