|00| Llewellyn's Foreword

You could throw all sorts of labels at me for my initial package as a new kid in Havoc High, or generally as an average, Hollywood and social media icon-worthy teenager.

13

I needed glasses as I was short-sighted. I tended to dress in multiple layers and forgot to put on some hair gel. Obviously I enjoyed studying, learning new things, and acing pretty much most of my school exams and projects over hanging out with "interesting" people, exploring their genitals in private places, getting in stupid fights, and getting intoxicated. No more jaw-dropping that I was a bisexual dude who hadn't come out of the closet yet, and loved reading and watching multiple subgenres of fantasy, paranormal, and historical stuff, boobs...and mostly gay porn.12

And no more interesting of it all, I was in love with my brother, Nate, who was the star quarterback of the same school we're attending, the Homecoming King of Havoc High. Because he's one hell of a mouth-watering hunk and a sweet angel who loved nurturing his little brother which was me.

One look at me and skimming through the two paragraphs above, of course you're gonna think that I was a full-fledged nerd, geek, weirdo, faggot, wimp, freak, victim of bullies, all that derogatory, insecure words sans ugly. And if (and when) my brother found out about my gay love for him, he's either going to cut me out of his life for good or just accept who I was, not taking into consideration of what he truly felt about the whole situation.

And behind of it all, and at the end, you must think that I was actually a special case who would change or save the world in the most unconventional means, or deliver a powerful message across the world on behalf of humanity (more like across one average school on behalf its population). I could be called unique, funny, interesting, caring, one-of-a-kind, and so on. Some people may bound to love me and I got to establish genuine, intimate relationships with them for a good amount of time. Hence, there existed this self-appraising monologue.

Sigh. Look, that's not the case here. All of these were neither derived from TVTropes nor Urban Dictionary, nor anything else similar to those two websites. (These contemporary references were subject to change in the far, far future, when they would no longer be relevant to the cyber society's arsenal.) Those, in my view of reality, were all bullshit. Every trait of mine that anyone else might notice in reference to the listed ones above had its limit or outright contradictory.1

This was because I was an average teenager at best, in a relatively average school. Nothing more and nothing less in the eyes of everybody else. Another quick fact to dissolve all that extraordinary assumptions of me was that my brother and I came from a typically rich family, so we pretty much had easy lives. No sob stories to gain quick access to people's sympathy.

However, I did see so much of myself that many people didn't need to know or care about, so I insisted on my average-ness.

What the fuck was I yapping about?

Well, this was my story as a (yup, average) teenager who simply, shamefully, should've known better, act stronger, be aware of everything I did and the consequences of my actions. Rise above who I think I was. Observe everything and act according to what's best for Nate and myself, and probably for the rest. Don't bite off more than I could chew, but in what matter? Everything.

Those aforementioned traits meant almost absolutely nothing if I was to humble-brag and seek validation from everyone twenty four-seven which I thought I might be doing it right now, and continue to do so as usual, depending on your perspective. I'd try not to, I was learning, and still learning.

Another thing was that I should choose my friends wisely and choose what I really believed and at what expense it did give me a false sense of self-sufficiency.

Be yourself and don't care about anyone else's opinions, they said. "They" could probably refer to everybody who most likely didn't take his or her (or etcetera) own advice and refused to admit it. Because the somewhat counter-motto that shortly came afterwards was that it's "easier said than done", praised by pessimists.

I could be stuck in between those phrases, but for myself, the former should be the best choice if I wanted to realise the life I always wanted. It's often seen as a vague, inspirational quote that many teenagers including myself may (or would) paste it all over the social media and other types of media solely for identity purposes. All it needed was a little paraphrasing to validate its point across my shallow head, with a little harsh but necessary experience.

The absolute answer to my self-afflicting, preteen-like dilemma was this:

A single (or a couple of) head bash from several, significant somebodies who were stronger than me was all I needed as a wake-up call that I pretty sucked as a person through and through, and that I needed to do (or should not do) whatever that's appropriate to be an actual man.

I had to...be that man, and I thought never I wanted to be that man. Not until then. And I loved it.

All for the sake my beloved brother...and myself.

And through the toils and troubles I'd been through, I decided that I wanted to stay by God's side, regardless of what many religions attributed to Him were known for—hating males who also liked other males' penises.

So here how it all went.