In which I get my first kiss

But first, let's catch up on the whole "boyfriend" thing.

In the FI (french immersion) class, we were a pretty tight-knit group. Pretty much a family. In the group of guys I hung out with on occasion there was Brody, Phillip and Marek. (There was also Cameron at one point but he moved away)

In grades 1&2 I had a huge crush on Phillip and would kiss him every chance I got. Just cute kid kisses, mind you. I actually tackled him and skinned his face on valentines day in grade one. Let's just say the feeling wasn't mutual.

Sometime in grade 2 I started to have a crush on Cameron, and that lasted a number of years. I asked him to be my valentine once and I got an "I guess". Then he dated Christina. Then he asked me to ask another girl out for him. Then I realized... it was about damn time to move on.

Brody and I dated for a whole week in grade 8. We decided it was weird, while we sat together on the wooden border of the playground, and broke it off.

Shortly after that I joined a theater group. We put on a Midsummer Night's Dream. I was a fairy.
Just as a bit of reference, At this time, I was into dance music, glitter and butterfly clips. I'd never kissed a boy. I'd never fallen in love. Felt lust. Masturbated. Had my period...
And there was Zach. Same age as me. Tall, blond, devastatingly gorgeous, troubled, a total badass with a smirk that would make my knees jelly. For almost the whole production he saw me as one of his 'guy friends'. He would tell me about all of his girl troubles at school. I would always hug him and console him. He'd tell me deep dark secrets and I relished every second of it. Then he started hanging around one of the other (older) girls. She had a boyfriend, but they started to get pretty heavy. Thirdwheel'd. After a while she decided she couldn't have him on the side and ditched. Guess who was there to console him. Oh yay. Sometime after that, I decided to become pro-active. Wear cuter clothing. Be flirtier. Play the game.
I was looking through my diary from that time a while ago and I actually have a whole page covered in lipgloss kisses, all marked and labeled. "Too greasy" "too much colour" "Not tasty!" For the tech rehearsal, I decided to wear my favourite (low-cut) top, cute embroidered jeans and I did my makeup and hair. Nothing atrociously trampy, mind. Just enough to look like I hadn't done anything but still looked stunning. Well he noticed. On our break, he invited me to come chat in the back of the band shell. It was a brand new band shell and they hadn't put any electrical in yet. So there we were, the two of us, sitting on opposite sides of the small room. Him on a chair- me on a table- the door cracked a few inches to let in the daylight. After a few minutes of just listening to my heart pound in my ears, he shifted and looked at me, raised an eyebrow and said "Why don't you come sit on my lap. We can talk about ... whatever pops up."
My heart raced, my mouth went dry. I looked at him, thankful for the dark, and said as convincingly as I could "Why don't you come over here?"
He walked towards me, pushing the door closed as he walked by. He cupped my face in his hands and started to kiss me. Slowly at first, then he slid his hand around the back of my head and kissed me passionately.
I hear about other people's first kisses, and... Mine was amazing. Exhilarating. My knees were still shaking the next morning. We talked about it after we were done. He wanted to know if I wanted to date. Oddly, I said no. We were from different towns, and he was a bit of a womanizer (already, at 13). I think that must have been a bit of a thorn in his paw. I don't think he'd ever really been turned down as such before. We didn't really talk much after that.

In which I introduce myself

I'm in college for animation.
I'm engaged.
My parents are divorced.
I have ADHD, anxiety and depression.
I'm trying to work my shit out.

Now that I know that I have 'unmanageable anxiety' it's hard for me to sort out what I really should be upset about and what my brain is blowing out of proportion. My councilor said to start a diary. Here I am. Fingers crossed.

It's been a rough couple of years, and I'll get to that soon enough. How about we start at the beginning . Might as well. I don't plan on sharing this with anyone I know. Probably.

I grew up in a tiny Ontario town called Beaverton. We lived there until I was almost five. I had some friends there, but they moved away before we did. I still talk to one of them over MSN and Facebook. We had a half-acre back yard, tall trees I could climb, a treehouse and a jungle gym. My dad used to mow mazes into the tall grass, sometimes with a picnic area for us to eat in. We had a cat. Dad worked hours away, and mum stayed home with me. I started playing piano at age three. I also played violin. Took ballet. Highland dancing...

We moved then to Port Perry. It's a nice town for the adults, little children and the elderly, but for teenagers it's a wasteland. It's not as bad as Oshawa, but it's a tiny town with nothing to do. I went to school in the french immersion program. I was never popular. All my friends in elementary school were either nerd guys, gifted kids or delinquents. (I'm only still friends with the nerd guys.)

In grade five my teacher picked on me so much I started having nervous breakdowns in school, and my mum would have to come and get me. I switched over to English in grade six and was semi-popular for that year. Probably the best year of my life so far, to be quite honest. I had a great group of girlfriends who would actually call me to see if I wanted to come play, we'd do fun girly things, sit together, gossip... and the teachers were nicer too. Grade seven I went back into french immersion. I made friends with a girl named Carly. Carly had another 'best friend' named Christina. She used to alternate between us, and badmouth us to each-other. By mid-grade eight Christina and I actually started talking and realized that Carly was not worth being friends with.

Since grade two or three there had been this cliq of about five girls that basically ruled the school. Mila, Caylie, Shelly, Megan, Katelyn and Justine. Mean Girls had nothing on these six. They were the cruelest most soul-crushing group of bitches you've ever come across. They started wearing makeup in grade 5. The term prosti-tot springs to mind. Not that it's terribly relevant now. I've seen a couple of them once or twice since the end of high-school, but I had to put up with their shit for 8 years. And then there was Jason. Mercifully he left after grade 5. He used to pull my hair and sucker punch me, kick me, and generally abuse me. I used to come home every day covered in bruises. I was a tiny kid. I broke 5 foot in grade 8. My mum put me in karate in elementary school, and I went until I got my blue belt. I've only ever punched someone in anger once in my life. My mum would get so mad that she was spending all this money teaching me how to defend myself and I wouldn't. We were taught that we should not fight back unless it was a life-threatening situation... which it never was.

Next: Highschool... But That's another post for another day. Must stop procrastinating! Back to work!