Lost Luggage - an excerpt

I was a terrible friend for a very long time.  You see, I was a wounded child prior to any of my  friends ever meeting me, always terrified of the next move, the next break with reality.  I attended 3 First Grade classes, moving again many times after that. 

I was a terrible friend because I was constantly in defensive mode.  So, I never quite learned how to ask questions and show interest that wasn't rude or offensive.  I'm sure I hardly gave a compliment, and I know I always desperately needed to take control.  And I know I probably seemed totally disinterested in the friends who did graciously choose to stick around.

In my defense, I don't think I could have done any better, no matter how hard I tried, because I was a young, inexperienced girl in a constant state of desperate anticipation.  I had razor sharp defense mechanisms I could not yet set aside, as they were allowing me to stay alive.  But I know... I know it made me a royally sucky friend.  And for that I am terribly sorry.

Because even though I knew I was often letting my friends down, I had no idea how to make things better.  I simply didn't know how to be a friend, because I had never had someone show me what a friend is supposed to be.

Oddly, I was popular enough, at least I never lacked for male attention, though I was poorly able to handle any of it at the time. 

A freaking train wreck has nothing on teenage me.

But God is nothing if not gracious, so for a long time I found refuge in the from of a long-haired Harley freak with an attitude problem.  A wonderful boy who was 2 years younger than me, and probably way more mature than I was (am).

I really was a feral thing.  Quite unable to fashion pretty outfits or fancy hairdos, I eventually settled on a bad bedhead look, after first having a mohawk, a plant head, and a few other odd hairstyles.

You see, I hid my inability to be feminine, and vulnerable, and nice, and everything else a good girl was supposed to be by becoming a non-conformist punker.  Which I'm certain I remember as looking way cooler than it really was.  Still...

I always said the wrong things at the wrong time, often yelling at the other kids to "get your lives together', and all that mum stuff I knew some didn't hear at home.  I wanted to protect them, as I had never been protected, so I took it upon myself to be bossy, and demanding, you know... how I was taught to show love.

My first apartment was often wall-to-wall teenagers who just needed someplace to go.  We rove in packs back then, but I didn't really get too close. 


To Be Cont...



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*Take no hostages. And leave your mark behind.

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