Not going back to Houston for the party at the Christman's house, where our old youth minister will be for a while. The good one, the guy we had full-time before Mark. The one the kids loved, listened to, respected, etc. The one that was dismissed, which triggered other incidents and complaints with our elders, and which then sparked the departure of pretty much everyone under 50 and their families. The youth group was my family for a while before we left as well.
This is of course, back when I lived with my parents and had to go to church. It did not become a chore until our church 'split'. I remember when my mom told me about all the other families leaving church. Their kids were like my brothers. I'd literally grown up with them. And I was told I'd never see them again. That's one of the very few times I cried. I was quite upset. Called Michael, who awkwardly told me he didn't know how to deal with that sort of thing. Learned my lesson and never called him when I was upset again.
But yeah. That was... my freshman year, I think. I've changed so much since then it really seems like I'm an entirely different person. The only people still around from that time... um. No one. Alan saw me during all four years, and he commented that I'd changed drastically (and probably not for the better). My junior year, I think it was, Greg saw something beautiful in me. It's gone now. Michael's still there, but... he's not really 'here'. I rarely chat with him. Come to think of it, he really wasn't 'there' most of my high school career, except when he and Emily were having issues. Meh.
I don't want to taint my memories of those people. I'd rather let them remain happy and fun and pleasant than be reminded of the reality that they are human. So I'm here instead of in Houston at that party. Okay.
You will all rightfully fear my NIPPLE OF DOOM. Yeah.