serlud
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As a child I felt was a bit 'different.
At school I played with girls, tease classics, I was quite lively and fun and I felt that my sympathy for them was reciprocated.
I felt, however, also a special feeling for children. Sure, it was not sexual attraction: it was rather the feeling of a strong bond of kinship that went beyond friendship and that he would dissolve in a sea of hugs and cuddles.
I knew it was strange that all this went against the rules of nature that those with fatigue and embarrassment mom and dad had taught me.
Even then I started to hide my feelings stronger, although not experiencing such a situation as traumatic. Many girls made me the thread, I had my girlfriend, and that was enough to convince me of being "normal."
With the onset of adolescence is over, however, the time of illusions and begin to understand.
The years of high school were the saddest, those of my first one true love.
Attended the school of **** that gathered all the children of the province.
I was the only of my country to attend the Secondary School Course IV **** and I found myself sitting next to a guy very quiet and sad.
Although he was alone: the friends of his country had chosen other schools or other courses.
I remember vividly the first day I saw him for the sadness I felt when I see him behind that bench with the expression of who bears the pain is too great, so great that he finds the strength to talk, to share it. He seemed to burst into tears.
I introduce myself and him, with a very low voice, almost inaudible answers, pleased, ****.
With every passing day her attitude changed and I was not very happy with that arrangement. After weeks had developed links with anyone and he was soon labeled as strange and complex.
You will have preferred to change the bench and sit next to one of the men with whom I immediately connected: I did not, care less about the "damage" that may be caused to my reputation.
Although we were strangers and our conversations were limited to the customary greetings,
I said to myself that I could not leave him alone, ignoring his loneliness and sadness.
I always felt like a little 'the suffering of my people around me.
Slowly began to open, although there was no exchange at the beginning of confidences.
I realized early on because of his discomfort: in that class full of spoiled children, all "emancipated", outgoing and ready to socialize, he came from a modest family, from a little backward, introverted ugly and perilous, he felt terribly uncomfortable.
An inferiority complex, in essence.
In addition, there is difficulty in speaking in public and in proper Italian.
Every question was like an agony and ironic smiles of my classmates were the coup de grace. Of course this did not favor its inclusion in the classroom.
I felt a great pain combined with anger at the way everyone treated him.
I decided that I did everything to help him. At school I got on very well, and soon became the notorious head of the class.
He was almost proud of my friendship was undoubtedly his best friend and he was for me, although there was a confidential report.
Sometimes silence has a clear meaning, one understands the other, his looks, his movements. No need for words.
I copied all written assignments, including class assignments, and agreed with the organization of the questions.
For subjects in the classroom advised him to study well literature: there was almost always a topic of literature.
They lived far apart, did not study together, but made clear his doubts, helping him to repeat, especially to prepare the questions of classical Latin and greek. We use the hours of religion, art, physical education.
I told him I did not need the thanks, I did it with pleasure, that I was useful for all my questions, which only needed my help to get out of his intelligence, not to replace it.
Yeah, believed to be less intelligent than the others but it was not, absolutely.
His inferiority complex began to decline and started to open up to other teammates. He was always a bit 'shy, but was not completely alone.
The year ended well: he had an average of seven and sometimes eight.
My report card made me become even more popular. I feared that this would damage my relationship with classmates, but fortunately did not happen.
I never denied to anyone to help me when I needed it and I have always found and affection. Even today we are very close, although scattered throughout the peninsula.
The first year, then, was over and **** was in seventh heaven. The hug he gave me the last day of school was worth more than any word and I reciprocated with equal affection.
I liked him very well, but as a best friend. Nothing more.
The summer we met there, only a few phone calls.
Then begins the new year in my life and opens a new chapter, unforgettable.
Fly away the summer holidays to return to class.
I took the 07:15 bus and arrived at school well in advance. I did always the first day to greet one by a fellow who would come and talk about our summer.
I arrived on the second floor, at a distance, a guy in front of the classroom door. I had imagined it could be ****: took the train to get to school and was always the first. But he was a skinny guy, quite tall, cute I guess.
It could not be him.
I go up, the guy I note it is my meeting and I literally jump on him. It was just **** and his happiness was equal to mine.
There was no other and started talking to freewheel. I used to smoke a cigarette after cigarette as he spoke and thought about what had changed: the flesh was gone, the gym had improved his physique, his face was more delicate. Even his voice seemed to me the most sensual and shyness was gone.
I felt strong emotion, as I was stunned, so as to be almost indifferent to the other comrades who arrived in the meantime.
Back home I tried to understand. I thought it was all due to emotion, to the fact that I did not expect such a radical change.
Instead, I was in love, for the first time.
I was sure it one afternoon while listening to a little 'music.
Start to think of his face, his gentle eyes, his thin lips. I imagined stroke, to close it with kisses, to touch her lips.
Smell her perfume and her arms around my neck.
The song ended and it was like being awakened by a beautiful dream.
It was then that I realized I love him: many times he had packed my fantasies while playing with my jewel, was the hero of my erotic dreams.
This time was different. My thoughts were chaste, only tenderness and sweetness. It was love not just physical attraction.
This conclusion has upset me, knowing what would have been difficult and painful to hide my secret. I even cried a bit 'scared for a bit' out of desperation.
Stand next to him thus becomes a pain.
Five hours a day next to one another without being able to touch or look like I wanted.
Like me ticklish, so every now and then I began to joke with the excuse to annoy him.
Obviously he reacted, jumping up, started running down the corridor, until they grabbed me and revenge.
I loved that his vengeance and ended when I ran into the bathroom ....
These were the only time when there was physical contact between us.
The bad days were those in which there was physical education. The teacher let us do whatever we wanted.
So, when he needed help in studying, playing soccer with my mates. I spent the time to smoke outdoors, with other slackers.
After the pack is now returned to class and began the torment.
I felt his warmth and the smell sent me into ecstasy. It was really hard to control my excitement even with the suit because some things are more noticeable ... (Yes, because they could not spend the time to do caz .., but the suit was mandatory !!!).
We never had physical education last time (at least then I went home), always at mid-day: it seemed like a punishment.
The time spent in the bathroom that time was very considerable.
Something no one suspected I was a heavy smoker, was often normal exit from the class.
My love grew more and more, as my sadness.
I would never have taken the first step and would never have done it.
It was really frustrating to know that they can not have what I wanted most in the world.
I became morose and melancholy, I left very little, I spent my afternoons studying and crying under the notes of sad songs.
Then the coup de grace had become engaged. She was a girl from his hometown, attending our high school, his class was to advance our own!
I fell into utter despair. I would rather stab to the heart to the vision of two of them kissing and holding hands coming out of school.
I began to hate him almost as if he had any guilt, as if he had betrayed.
I was looking for an excuse, an excuse, not to ask him the word more, not help him anymore, delete it from my life.
I knew that I would not have succeeded and I loved him too much to want to do.
So I continued my states striving to appear more cheerful and fun for betraying not the least of my innermost feelings.
I also thought a diversion: a girl.
On the other hand, I would have been useful to keep up appearances and avoid the occurrence of all suspicion.
On the bus I met a girl in my country, cute, delicate, very fine. We became friends and often went out together on Saturday, even alone.
The similarities were many, but when I took the fateful step pushed me away and walked away.
Since then, our relationships were long roller-coaster ride: we walked away, then someone apologizing for having done something and closer, then I'd play again and she escaped. We continued like this for years.
Many had noted our friendship, and around it was said that we had a secret affair (but we'd have to hide?).
I was not in love with her, even though I loved her. I insisted on pride, I believe, because I felt the need to look like everyone else.
Perhaps for both reasons.
My love, the real one, went in one direction, always the same.
And he was always one-way, also because **** even suspected what I had for him.
I do not know how many afternoons I spent crying and thinking of him. Certainly many, given that this is the image of my adolescence that occurs most often in my memories.
The melancholy, the sadness, the loneliness of those years can not be described.
Some events have a profound mark on my heart and I'll never forget.
I remember a birthday party of one of my classmate. He lived in a village in the province, and since none of us had a driver's license, had the problem of how to get home. After 21:00, there were no more buses.
Decided to host at his house in the country. We were ten and after the party, completely drunk, we went to sleep in that house.
**** Slept in a room other than when I was with other teammates.
The next morning I woke up very early, my head still spinning, and as always my first thought was directed at him.
I got up and switching between sleeping bags and clothes scattered everywhere I went in his room.
Although there was chaos, but now the individuai. His clothes were on a chair, sleeping naked on a bed wrapped in a duvet.
I thought about waking him, make him a sort of joke.
But when I saw his face illuminated by the dim light filtering through a closed window in half, I felt my heart in my throat.
I escaped treading on someone who was sleeping on the floor and fortunately not even noticed it. I went into the kitchen, lit a cigarette and began to cry.
I saw her face for a few seconds, but that image is perfect in my memory.
I bathed her face with cold water and went back to sleep.
I woke up late this morning and prepared for departure. I looked horrible and not just for the drunkenness.
Purposely left the phone in the kitchen, behind a box, and after that we left a bit 'I asked the landlord to return the keys and get it. He wanted to accompany me, but I convinced him to stay with the others.
I entered the room where catapulted **** slept and I lay down on her bed to smell her perfume. When I hear it today.
I felt a tear come down, I got up and went into the kitchen.
After taking the mobile phone reached my friends.
**** Told me that I was pale and could not return home in those conditions. His concern me glad I answered that I would have taken before you arrive.
After the greetings everyone took his bus. I spent the day alone in my room, under the pretense of sleep. I could not sleep.
My high school years are full of such events: trips, birthdays, parties. Each time the same emotions, the same infinite love, the same silence.
Nobody has ever noticed anything.
After the tests were sent me a text message: If you have arrived here thanks to you. Thanks a lot, you're great. I do not say these things in person because I know that I stop saying it is not so. Do not ever meet a special friend like you. I love you.
When I read it I was home and I cried for hours. The thought of never again terrified me.
It's been 4 years after graduation, he studied **** very far from his village, I as well.
I'll see you once at Christmas, one at Easter several times during the summer.
Since the start of the university is always the case. Is always a thrill to see him: I will never love anyone like I loved him.
This year a friend of his came to study in the city where I study, the same faculty. He called me and asked if I could help her because it would not turn a lot with the curriculum and the like.
From the 1% of you gave to me and graduated in record time, he said.
That phrase has awakened many memories and that is why, probably, that I felt the need to write.
As for me, my homosexuality is still a secret. I have not had any reports yet, I find the courage.
Appearances, however, are safe: that girl in high school I was rejected last year during the holidays, she kissed me, saying it was stupid of me always loved, and the like.
We have been together for almost a year, I very well but, as then, I do not think he loves her. I wonder why I returned the kiss and make myself feel sick because of teasing.
We are just together because the study far from home. In the short time we spend together we have fun and we also have an intense sexual life.
Unfortunately for me it's like fulfilling a duty and my great strength is not reliable due to my manhood. I never wanted so much to a girl, but not love.
Love makes losing your head, do try the more violent emotions, thoughts and will only make the person you love. And I get this feeling I have experienced only once during the sad years of high school.
I do not know that I will make my life, I do not know enough about the appearance or the 30 manual. I'm afraid that one day I will have terrible regrets.
Remember how the poem ended "Il Passero Solitario?
At school I played with girls, tease classics, I was quite lively and fun and I felt that my sympathy for them was reciprocated.
I felt, however, also a special feeling for children. Sure, it was not sexual attraction: it was rather the feeling of a strong bond of kinship that went beyond friendship and that he would dissolve in a sea of hugs and cuddles.
I knew it was strange that all this went against the rules of nature that those with fatigue and embarrassment mom and dad had taught me.
Even then I started to hide my feelings stronger, although not experiencing such a situation as traumatic. Many girls made me the thread, I had my girlfriend, and that was enough to convince me of being "normal."
With the onset of adolescence is over, however, the time of illusions and begin to understand.
The years of high school were the saddest, those of my first one true love.
Attended the school of **** that gathered all the children of the province.
I was the only of my country to attend the Secondary School Course IV **** and I found myself sitting next to a guy very quiet and sad.
Although he was alone: the friends of his country had chosen other schools or other courses.
I remember vividly the first day I saw him for the sadness I felt when I see him behind that bench with the expression of who bears the pain is too great, so great that he finds the strength to talk, to share it. He seemed to burst into tears.
I introduce myself and him, with a very low voice, almost inaudible answers, pleased, ****.
With every passing day her attitude changed and I was not very happy with that arrangement. After weeks had developed links with anyone and he was soon labeled as strange and complex.
You will have preferred to change the bench and sit next to one of the men with whom I immediately connected: I did not, care less about the "damage" that may be caused to my reputation.
Although we were strangers and our conversations were limited to the customary greetings,
I said to myself that I could not leave him alone, ignoring his loneliness and sadness.
I always felt like a little 'the suffering of my people around me.
Slowly began to open, although there was no exchange at the beginning of confidences.
I realized early on because of his discomfort: in that class full of spoiled children, all "emancipated", outgoing and ready to socialize, he came from a modest family, from a little backward, introverted ugly and perilous, he felt terribly uncomfortable.
An inferiority complex, in essence.
In addition, there is difficulty in speaking in public and in proper Italian.
Every question was like an agony and ironic smiles of my classmates were the coup de grace. Of course this did not favor its inclusion in the classroom.
I felt a great pain combined with anger at the way everyone treated him.
I decided that I did everything to help him. At school I got on very well, and soon became the notorious head of the class.
He was almost proud of my friendship was undoubtedly his best friend and he was for me, although there was a confidential report.
Sometimes silence has a clear meaning, one understands the other, his looks, his movements. No need for words.
I copied all written assignments, including class assignments, and agreed with the organization of the questions.
For subjects in the classroom advised him to study well literature: there was almost always a topic of literature.
They lived far apart, did not study together, but made clear his doubts, helping him to repeat, especially to prepare the questions of classical Latin and greek. We use the hours of religion, art, physical education.
I told him I did not need the thanks, I did it with pleasure, that I was useful for all my questions, which only needed my help to get out of his intelligence, not to replace it.
Yeah, believed to be less intelligent than the others but it was not, absolutely.
His inferiority complex began to decline and started to open up to other teammates. He was always a bit 'shy, but was not completely alone.
The year ended well: he had an average of seven and sometimes eight.
My report card made me become even more popular. I feared that this would damage my relationship with classmates, but fortunately did not happen.
I never denied to anyone to help me when I needed it and I have always found and affection. Even today we are very close, although scattered throughout the peninsula.
The first year, then, was over and **** was in seventh heaven. The hug he gave me the last day of school was worth more than any word and I reciprocated with equal affection.
I liked him very well, but as a best friend. Nothing more.
The summer we met there, only a few phone calls.
Then begins the new year in my life and opens a new chapter, unforgettable.
Fly away the summer holidays to return to class.
I took the 07:15 bus and arrived at school well in advance. I did always the first day to greet one by a fellow who would come and talk about our summer.
I arrived on the second floor, at a distance, a guy in front of the classroom door. I had imagined it could be ****: took the train to get to school and was always the first. But he was a skinny guy, quite tall, cute I guess.
It could not be him.
I go up, the guy I note it is my meeting and I literally jump on him. It was just **** and his happiness was equal to mine.
There was no other and started talking to freewheel. I used to smoke a cigarette after cigarette as he spoke and thought about what had changed: the flesh was gone, the gym had improved his physique, his face was more delicate. Even his voice seemed to me the most sensual and shyness was gone.
I felt strong emotion, as I was stunned, so as to be almost indifferent to the other comrades who arrived in the meantime.
Back home I tried to understand. I thought it was all due to emotion, to the fact that I did not expect such a radical change.
Instead, I was in love, for the first time.
I was sure it one afternoon while listening to a little 'music.
Start to think of his face, his gentle eyes, his thin lips. I imagined stroke, to close it with kisses, to touch her lips.
Smell her perfume and her arms around my neck.
The song ended and it was like being awakened by a beautiful dream.
It was then that I realized I love him: many times he had packed my fantasies while playing with my jewel, was the hero of my erotic dreams.
This time was different. My thoughts were chaste, only tenderness and sweetness. It was love not just physical attraction.
This conclusion has upset me, knowing what would have been difficult and painful to hide my secret. I even cried a bit 'scared for a bit' out of desperation.
Stand next to him thus becomes a pain.
Five hours a day next to one another without being able to touch or look like I wanted.
Like me ticklish, so every now and then I began to joke with the excuse to annoy him.
Obviously he reacted, jumping up, started running down the corridor, until they grabbed me and revenge.
I loved that his vengeance and ended when I ran into the bathroom ....
These were the only time when there was physical contact between us.
The bad days were those in which there was physical education. The teacher let us do whatever we wanted.
So, when he needed help in studying, playing soccer with my mates. I spent the time to smoke outdoors, with other slackers.
After the pack is now returned to class and began the torment.
I felt his warmth and the smell sent me into ecstasy. It was really hard to control my excitement even with the suit because some things are more noticeable ... (Yes, because they could not spend the time to do caz .., but the suit was mandatory !!!).
We never had physical education last time (at least then I went home), always at mid-day: it seemed like a punishment.
The time spent in the bathroom that time was very considerable.
Something no one suspected I was a heavy smoker, was often normal exit from the class.
My love grew more and more, as my sadness.
I would never have taken the first step and would never have done it.
It was really frustrating to know that they can not have what I wanted most in the world.
I became morose and melancholy, I left very little, I spent my afternoons studying and crying under the notes of sad songs.
Then the coup de grace had become engaged. She was a girl from his hometown, attending our high school, his class was to advance our own!
I fell into utter despair. I would rather stab to the heart to the vision of two of them kissing and holding hands coming out of school.
I began to hate him almost as if he had any guilt, as if he had betrayed.
I was looking for an excuse, an excuse, not to ask him the word more, not help him anymore, delete it from my life.
I knew that I would not have succeeded and I loved him too much to want to do.
So I continued my states striving to appear more cheerful and fun for betraying not the least of my innermost feelings.
I also thought a diversion: a girl.
On the other hand, I would have been useful to keep up appearances and avoid the occurrence of all suspicion.
On the bus I met a girl in my country, cute, delicate, very fine. We became friends and often went out together on Saturday, even alone.
The similarities were many, but when I took the fateful step pushed me away and walked away.
Since then, our relationships were long roller-coaster ride: we walked away, then someone apologizing for having done something and closer, then I'd play again and she escaped. We continued like this for years.
Many had noted our friendship, and around it was said that we had a secret affair (but we'd have to hide?).
I was not in love with her, even though I loved her. I insisted on pride, I believe, because I felt the need to look like everyone else.
Perhaps for both reasons.
My love, the real one, went in one direction, always the same.
And he was always one-way, also because **** even suspected what I had for him.
I do not know how many afternoons I spent crying and thinking of him. Certainly many, given that this is the image of my adolescence that occurs most often in my memories.
The melancholy, the sadness, the loneliness of those years can not be described.
Some events have a profound mark on my heart and I'll never forget.
I remember a birthday party of one of my classmate. He lived in a village in the province, and since none of us had a driver's license, had the problem of how to get home. After 21:00, there were no more buses.
Decided to host at his house in the country. We were ten and after the party, completely drunk, we went to sleep in that house.
**** Slept in a room other than when I was with other teammates.
The next morning I woke up very early, my head still spinning, and as always my first thought was directed at him.
I got up and switching between sleeping bags and clothes scattered everywhere I went in his room.
Although there was chaos, but now the individuai. His clothes were on a chair, sleeping naked on a bed wrapped in a duvet.
I thought about waking him, make him a sort of joke.
But when I saw his face illuminated by the dim light filtering through a closed window in half, I felt my heart in my throat.
I escaped treading on someone who was sleeping on the floor and fortunately not even noticed it. I went into the kitchen, lit a cigarette and began to cry.
I saw her face for a few seconds, but that image is perfect in my memory.
I bathed her face with cold water and went back to sleep.
I woke up late this morning and prepared for departure. I looked horrible and not just for the drunkenness.
Purposely left the phone in the kitchen, behind a box, and after that we left a bit 'I asked the landlord to return the keys and get it. He wanted to accompany me, but I convinced him to stay with the others.
I entered the room where catapulted **** slept and I lay down on her bed to smell her perfume. When I hear it today.
I felt a tear come down, I got up and went into the kitchen.
After taking the mobile phone reached my friends.
**** Told me that I was pale and could not return home in those conditions. His concern me glad I answered that I would have taken before you arrive.
After the greetings everyone took his bus. I spent the day alone in my room, under the pretense of sleep. I could not sleep.
My high school years are full of such events: trips, birthdays, parties. Each time the same emotions, the same infinite love, the same silence.
Nobody has ever noticed anything.
After the tests were sent me a text message: If you have arrived here thanks to you. Thanks a lot, you're great. I do not say these things in person because I know that I stop saying it is not so. Do not ever meet a special friend like you. I love you.
When I read it I was home and I cried for hours. The thought of never again terrified me.
It's been 4 years after graduation, he studied **** very far from his village, I as well.
I'll see you once at Christmas, one at Easter several times during the summer.
Since the start of the university is always the case. Is always a thrill to see him: I will never love anyone like I loved him.
This year a friend of his came to study in the city where I study, the same faculty. He called me and asked if I could help her because it would not turn a lot with the curriculum and the like.
From the 1% of you gave to me and graduated in record time, he said.
That phrase has awakened many memories and that is why, probably, that I felt the need to write.
As for me, my homosexuality is still a secret. I have not had any reports yet, I find the courage.
Appearances, however, are safe: that girl in high school I was rejected last year during the holidays, she kissed me, saying it was stupid of me always loved, and the like.
We have been together for almost a year, I very well but, as then, I do not think he loves her. I wonder why I returned the kiss and make myself feel sick because of teasing.
We are just together because the study far from home. In the short time we spend together we have fun and we also have an intense sexual life.
Unfortunately for me it's like fulfilling a duty and my great strength is not reliable due to my manhood. I never wanted so much to a girl, but not love.
Love makes losing your head, do try the more violent emotions, thoughts and will only make the person you love. And I get this feeling I have experienced only once during the sad years of high school.
I do not know that I will make my life, I do not know enough about the appearance or the 30 manual. I'm afraid that one day I will have terrible regrets.
Remember how the poem ended "Il Passero Solitario?
I hope to find the courage to come out. I do not want that to be the epilogue of my life.
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