Wanderer, Wondering

When I was a child, a seventh grader if you will, I had bees instead of neurons, flowers growing between my skull instead of a pink wrinkly brain sat neatly in the void of my head. I was easily distracted and thought of everything and nothing. I thought I was clever, but called myself stupid. I doubted my thinking and spoke true words with my strange vocabulary. I was a walking paradox, some would say, within a whirlwind of broken up thoughts.

When I was in seventh grade, in the old and graying science class room (with its gas where I wondered how long it would take to burn the school, to fill it up?) I stumbled headfirst into a strange anomaly within my bee-filled skull with its small flowery petals and strange thoughts.

We were in a biology unit, specifically, learning about the frog and preparing for the end of the unit project— dissecting the amphibious creatures.

I think I developed a strong hatred for them there.

For each part we took and prodded around for in the frog we were required to learn and pay attention to a short lesson about them.

Now when I was even younger than 12, we learned about this concept itself in small details, within the pages of old yellowing books. This topic I knew in a more friendly way.

It was called Love, and It was so foreign to me, how strange!

What was love? I asked my teacher when I was younger, confusion on my face as my brain struggled to think in the strange words of english. Believe it or not, English was not my first language, and my teachers knew this so she tried her best to translate it.

Amor.

That’s what love was, and suddenly I lit up, we were learning of amor! Love!

(I still sometimes struggle with English.)
Later, when I was in 5th grade we learned about something less, appropriate but that we were required to learn, how ever vagué it was.

(The lesson disgusted me.)

Sex is natural, they said.

When I was younger, I was led to believe everyone loves in a much more romantic way.

So my close relationships with male friends were suddenly what I thought was romantic, and I gushed to my friends about liking this tall fella who was white skinned and had long messy hair.

That year was 3rd grade, my best friend, who had blond hair and pale skin with blue-gray eyes, got a valentines gift from this weird kid with a disability I couldn’t name before I learned it was a form of autism.

My best friend has ADHD, I might have both and yet we made fun of the kid with the childish crush most kids are said to have.

That lunch I ate a raspberry filled chocolate, as my friend ate the other four. It was her gift after all, and my mom had packed chocolates for me that I shared with her too.

We talked about how awkward it was when she revived the chocolates and how the kid ran afterwards.

We are still friends, but because I was confused I thought I loved her romantically at one point. I do, but it’s platonic.

Every human loves (and in a non family way, the teacher added) someone. They eventually get married. It even lines up with Christianity, a sacrament being marriage.

I struggled with this concept, with ideals I didn’t want to believe pushed into my skull. “Everyone loves someone one day!” They teach me, and I want to yell that I love my mother, I love my father, and I tolerate my sister, is that not enough?

I love them with all my heart, even when we fight because the women are sensitive and the men struggle and I flail around struggling to show affection, so I cling and hug them and kiss their cheeks hoping that they understand. Hoping that they know I want to say ‘Te amo’, “I love you,” but it sounds fake to my ears.

Because words cannot capture how much I enjoy their presence in the same household as me even when I isolate myself. How I love hanging out with them on fun little trips, but they try anyways.

So as I grow older, as I ready myself for the next step and live and my life changes, (and how I hate change) and our voices deepen and we are more masculine and feminine and we get serious.

I felt a little lost, and sometimes I still do,

But then I remember, the whole world of the internet is at my fingertips.

In 6th grade I discovered a rather large community of sites name ‘Fandom’, they were about everything and nothing. Whole worlds, shows, stories official authors and aspiring writers create to share with the world.

I did what any child would do and searched a solution for my problems, my issues.

All because I was unsure, but I had started getting pressured, how ever subtle from my parents, to get a man.

I got a list of potential sexuality’s that might cause a disinterest in a certain s3x, I thought I was lesbian for a while, so I joined my schools sexuality and gender alliance ‘club’ and helped plan events to support the LGBTQ+ community.

Prior to that though, was a long talk to my parents confessing my doubts of being straight, all because I haven’t really felt attraction to anyone.

(This was before I knew of different sexuality’s like Asexual or Aromantic, only the more known ones like Bisexual)

They have stop teasing me about getting a man, to my relief.

In that club, I discovered many kind people who would speak of there struggles and how they felt towards certain things, such as sexuality.

This one chick, with warm, chocolate eyes and a fierce personality spoke of how she never felt any sort of attraction is any sort towards anyone.

I was silent during that discussion.

As I searched the web for any clue towards what I felt, I stumbled upon a certain wiki that peeked my interest

The LGBTQIA+ wiki.

Boy, did I discover myself that day, nearly a year and a half later I started searching for any sort of answer.

AroAce, Aromantic Asexual.

I am now in High school, I will study engineering soon as a freshman as I do sophomore level English and Junior level Spanish.

Next near I’ll do Collage level Spanish.

I have a small little space in the internet all to myself with close friends where I write the most bizarre of things, of small towns and my attempt at a rom-com with animals of all things, exotic, isn’t it?

I still struggle with many things, and so do my real-life friends. The internet can be toxic, and they learn these type of things from homophobic people with out knowing knowing it.

I have lost family and friends over the years, but I know a little more about my self.

My preferred name is Leon, I am a freshman and I identify as Aromantic Asexual, I use any pronouns and I am not afraid to speak my mind.

I am not afraid of yelling at my parents to get it through their skulls that just because they learned it doesn’t mean I should.

I am not afraid of asking for things, despite how ever anxious I can can when I speak face to face with unfamiliar strangers.

I am Leon, and I am so proud of myself.

(I have been told I should not, but I do not believe in their Gods)