Why I'm Not an Idiot

Homophobe

Hey guys!

Like I say every time I post a chapter, this took WAY too long and I'm really sorry. I'm hoping I can write more after my bat mitzvah (in late March).

But here it is: chapter eight. Before you start, I have a question. Does my diolouge sound realistic? Could you hear yourself talking like this to your friends? That's what I'm aiming for. If not, what can I do better? If so, what makes it realistic? Comment if you can. Thanks for reading!

*****

"It's absolute BULLSHIT!" I yell, throwing my arms up and pacing on the grass in exaggeration. Graham and Matt are leaning against the tree, nodding along and exchanging glances as I explain what happened earlier today. "It's just- it's just so stupid! It keeps getting better- and then it just gets worse!"

"It's better than not getting better at all, right?" Matt says, looking up at me.

I stop pacing and quickly sit down on the dewy grass and grunt. "I don't know! Cuz whenever it gets worse again, I just fucking- like- I'm just really fucking let down. Cuz it was good before. It's fucking stupid."

All my friends, including Graham and Matt, have given up trying to make me take it down a notch on swearing. I always explain that (in the wise words of Ryan Higa) a curse is a word, which, in reality, is just a sound. I don't curse to be cool, like some people I know; I just use it as a form of self-expression. Sometimes I just can't help it. I find that adults really underestimate how much kids curse. I had a very "colorful" vocabulary when I was only ten, as did a lot of kids in my grade.

And anyway, cursing is fun, okay? Jeez, stop judging people off of their vocabulary.

All of my siblings curse, but none of us curse in front of our parents. Earlier today, though, when I went downstairs for lunch like had Annie suggested, I did. I swear, I didn't start it. As soon as I got into the room, everyone went completely silent, which pissed me off. And I have to admit, knowing Annie is on my side boosted something inside of me (I can't say it was confidence, because I was nervous as fuck, but it boosted something). So I was kinda sassy, and I was just like, "So, you guys are just never talking to me again?" And then Dad, who I guess was also feeling a little sassy, was like, "Come speak to us when you start making good decisions again." And then I was really mad, so I rolled my eyes and said, without thinking, "Then I guess you're just never gonna fucking talk to me, is that it?" and I was sent up to my room. I didn't have lunch. I went down for dinner later when no one was in the kitchen anymore.

They don't love you anymore, the Bad Side says. The Good Side doesn't argue. I'm scared it died. After all, I didn't really want to commit suicide. The Good Side did. Maybe it got its wish. If that's the case, I wish it had just stayed a little while longer, to see what's going on now. I need you, I say to the Good Side in heaven.

If the Good Side is dead, did it really go to heaven? It was a great guy. It literally had "Good" in its name. But that's my definition of good, and according to my family, that definition is wrong. It was gay. It sinned. Still, I can't imagine it going to hell, although I've never really believed in hell anyway. I hope wherever the Good Side is, it's happy. But I also hope it's not dead.

"Dude, someone in your family is on your side, and that's a big thing. Annie is awesome," Graham says, snapping me awake. "That's, like, WAY better than I expected. Anyway, what happened to your hand?"

I look down at my bandages. "Oh, I threw something and something broke and I cut myself."

"You WHAT?"

" BY ACCIDENT! By accident. Jeez."

Matt shakes his head. "You scared me."

"Guys, I'm fine." I throw my arms out. "Look. I'm alive and well and not depressed. You can get off my back now."