Jumpin' Jacks is for Stoners

I always forget how gay and loud I am until a moment like last night.

Above you can see a picture of one of the big summer hangouts in my hometown. The ice cream tastes like delicious paste, you can get a sundae for $3.25 and anything you want (I mean anything) can be fried within an inch of it's life. The place is white trash and Grease all rolled up into one.

This is my childhood/Teenage Development right in front of you. We arrived and to my surprise, a couple of high school guys I expected was an entire picnic table of them. Being one of the only homos in my high school I opened a door that was closed until I made everyone aware that Faggots exist everywhere, even in my small backwoods town.

The table consisted of the straight boys who in high school were punks/rockers/emo/anarchists/Best Buy Employee/stoner/Christians/screamo/scene/atheist/artists and yet through their stone cold gazes I felt like the odd man out.

These are boys in high school I could handle (unlike the tricky Jock, but I'm sure nowadays I could definitely handle them too) and we walked up to this table and I realized I could still deal. Yet, I didn't want to and neither did they. And how sad the scene seemed. All of them just hanging out in my sad town. Most of them were done with school and living at home. I approached the table and some feigned an interest is saying hello.

There was no interesting in how I've been and vice versa. There was no talk of high school times. Just me stand while they didn't even ask me to pull up a chair. I stood there with the one friend I'd chosen to bring. Krista, ever faithful Krista.

Recently, I've been spouting out this:

I sometimes regret having spent my early twenties growing up in the City. It's turned me into a crazier person that I think I would've become. I wish that I had moved here when I was in my later twenties and more financially stable.

I am going to take this time to publicly apologize for saying that. Sure I may have many more woes. Sure I may have been going through a rough time. Sure I may be gay and louder than all of the population of my town put together.

Yet, in that moment. To see this table of people who'd just finished school and were now living at home. I wanted to scream:

There may be more of you than myself. You may be able to gracefully give me the cold shoulder because we are past subtleties of high school politeness. But I have lived 10,000 more lives than you have already! I have cried tears and seen things that you can't even fathom. Don't say hello, don't ask me how I am. I will gladly return the favor, but know that you have helped me. You have helped me see what life could have been like. You have reminded me that there are sadder days than my own and they sit at this very picnic table. I see them in your boredom of a life you haven't even started yet. Good luck fuckers.

After that internal monologue, we left. I think it was heard loud and clear.