Reggie's Journal
Entry #3
I think I’m going to throw up. I grabbed my journal as soon as I came into Mrs.
Reynolds geometry class. She’s calling students to the board to demonstrate
homework problems, but this can’t wait. I hope she doesn’t call on me while I
write this.

Mr. Byrd knows I’m gay. I was going to white out those big bold words I wrote
repeatedly about being gay, but I forgot. When he stood beside me and I started
turning the pages of my journal, I froze when I came to the 6th page and saw the
words staring back at me. He had been chuckling about a comment he read, but
he suddenly stopped when I turned to that page. I don’t know what to do. He
patted me on my shoulder like he did last Friday, but I’m not really sure how he
feels. What if he asks me about it? Hold on. Mrs. Reynolds just called on me to go
to the board.

Okay, I’m back. I just made a big fool out of myself. I wasn’t paying attention
when she called on me. When I walked to the front of the class, there were three
problems on the board. I wasn’t sure which one she wanted me to solve.
Naturally, I went to the first one. Wrong! She had asked me to work the middle
one. To make matters worse, I couldn’t really concentrate, so I got the wrong
answer. It was an easy problem and Mrs. Reynolds had to make some kind of a
remark about me never considering a career as an architect. So now I’m sitting
here feeling all humiliated.

I will write more later.

I’m back. Could this day possibly get any worse? I’m in my French class and the
bell is getting ready to ring, but I wanted to write this down because I’m so mad.
Abe asked me in the hall after 5th period if I was a fag. And he asked me when we
were leaving class, so everyone heard him. He grabbed my arm and tried to stop
me, but I pushed his hand off and hurried away. What is his problem? I thought
we were friends. If I wasn’t so scared, I’d tell people that Stephanie is a slut
because she forced me to feel on her, but that wouldn’t sound good. It would
definitely make people think I’m gay.

I don’t know what to do. Ever since I started writing in this stupid journal, my life
is beginning to fall apart. Mr. Byrd knows I’m gay, and now half my class suspects
I am. The bell rang, so   I’m going to put this thing away. I may just toss it out
the bus window on the way home. It’s bringing me nothing but trouble.

Okay, I’m back. It’s Sunday night, and I’ve just spent the worst weekend of my
life. After what happened Friday at school, I came home and locked myself in my
room. I haven’t done anything. My homework is still sitting on my desk, and I
haven’t been on the computer or read a book. Except to go downstairs and eat
dinner with my parents, I’ve stayed in my room. What’s funny, they didn’t even
notice that I was upset. My father discussed his new book, and Mom talked about
a college student who is observing her class.

I mostly sat at my window and waited for deer to appear in the backyard. I didn’t
spot any. Then suddenly yesterday afternoon, I started crying. Tears just welled
up in my eyes and I couldn’t stop them. I don’t think I’ve cried since I was a little
boy. I’ve really never had a reason to. I don’t know why I started crying
yesterday. Okay. Yes I do. This journal is about understanding ourselves better,
right? So I’m going to put it here why I cried. Just like I did last week when I
confessed I was gay. I still don’t know how Mr. Byrd is going to react to that. He
seems like a pretty cool teacher, so I don’t think he’s going to think anything bad
about me. I just hope he doesn’t make a comment in class some day like Abe did.
I’m still mad at Abe. He was supposed to be my friend.

I think what made me sad was a phone call I got from Beverly Miles. I was sitting
looking out the window and my cell phone rang. I’ve known Beverly since the first
grade. She’s probably the smartest girl in our class. Mrs. McDonald said last year
that she will probably be the valedictorian of our class when we graduate. That
was last year when we were freshmen. Everyone hated her for a little while
because we knew we had no chance to be valedictorian. Now we’re all trying to
increase our grades so we can be salutatorian. Anyway, she called and we just
chatted for a while. It was really weird because she’s never called me before. After
we talked about our classes, she started getting really nervous. Then she tells me
that if I needed someone to talk to, I could talk to her. She said she knows
someone who is gay and he’s talked to her a lot. At first I didn’t know what to
say. We must have just sat quietly for a minute without speaking. Then I hung up
on her. I didn’t even say goodbye. I know she was trying to be sweet and
understanding, but I didn’t know how to react. Now she’ll probably go to school
on Monday and tell everyone about our conversation. Not denying that I’m gay is
the same as admitting it, right? She’s smart enough to know that.

Sorry. I got distracted again. It’s just that Beverly’s call upset me. Okay. I was
going to tell why I cried. After talking to Beverly, I went back to the window and
looked out. I just sat there and an overwhelming sensation swept over me. I’ve
never experienced something like that before. The next thing I know, I’m wiping
tears out of my eyes. Okay. Here goes. I’m not going to write it big this time. I
don’t want Mr. Byrd to be able to read it. I’m lonely. I know I said I wasn’t in the
first entry, but things have changed. I always thought I enjoyed being by myself.   
I have my parents, and I have my friends, so I’m not really alone. Right? But then
this weird thought entered my mind and I kind of got goose bumps on my arms. I
realized I was facing a crisis in my life, and I had absolutely no one I could talk to
about it. Not one person. Okay, Beverly asked, but she’s not that certain
someone I can confide in. I can’t talk to Mom and Dad about this. I guess I can,
but I don’t want to. I don’t have a best friend who I can run to with this thing.
There’s not one person I can go to and say, “My life is crashing down around me.
Can you help me?” Okay. I gotta go. I’m crying again. And I never cry.

Okay, I’m back. I played hooky today. Trust me, it’s not easy when both your
parents are teachers. I’ve missed four days since I started first grade. I was out
for three days with the measles, and I missed one day with pink eye in the fifth
grade. That’s it. But I just couldn’t go to school today. I couldn’t. I didn’t want to
face Mr. Byrd, or Abe, or Stephanie or Beverly. I wasn’t in the mood to see
anyone today.

So I stayed in bed after the alarm went off. Mom came to my room about twenty
minutes later to see why I didn’t come down for breakfast. When I told her I was
sick, she naturally got the thermometer and took my temperature. She sat
around and waited, so I couldn’t put it near the light bulb near my bed. I learned
that little trick from Abe. Mom looked at the reading on the thermometer, felt my
forehead and said that I wasn’t sick. I whined and insisted that I didn’t feel well,
but she told me I had five minutes to dress and be downstairs at the kitchen
table. So desperate times require desperate measures. When I went downstairs
to the kitchen, Mom had a bowl of Cheerios prepared for me. I pushed it aside and
attempted to act sick. Dad was holding the newspaper up so that he couldn’t see
me. When Mom turned and started washing some dishes, I went for it. You know
that little dangling thingy in the back of your throat. I read that if you push on it,
you can make yourself throw up. It works. I put my finger down my throat. The
first time I gagged, so I did it again. The dinner from the night before spewed out
onto the floor. Mom gasped and yelled at me to hurry to the bathroom. As I left
the room, she was complaining about the mess she was going to have to clean up
before she left for school.

I felt really guilty, but I had to do something. I went to my room and crawled back
into bed. She came in later to check on me. After feeling my forehead, she told me
she’d call me later and check to see how I was doing. If my symptoms got worse,
I was to immediately call her and she’d leave school to take me to the doctor.

I did manage to complete the homework assignments I didn’t do on Sunday. The
only problem is now I’m going to be two days behind. Tomorrow night I’ll have
today’s assignment, plus tomorrow’s to do. It’s only been three weeks, but my
teachers are already starting to pile on the work. I guess they have to. Being in
advanced classes, we are expected to do much more work than normal classes.
Sometimes it takes me over three hours to complete it all. Now I’ve got this
stupid journal to write and it’s taking up more time than I expected. I find I’m
grabbing it all the time and either writing in it or reading what I’ve already written.
Some of the stuff I wish I hadn’t said, but I guess it’s too late now. I know one
thing, when this is over, I’m going to throw it into the fireplace this winter when
no one is looking.

I wonder if other students are doing the same thing I am. Are they revealing
secrets about themselves that they would want no one to know?  I’d really be
curious to see what Abe is writing. I wonder if he’s writing about me. He’s
probably writing about the fag that used to be his friend.

Since I’m caught up with my homework assignments and I won’t have any time
tomorrow night to write, I guess I’ll do this week’s prompt. Mr. Byrd wrote on the
board Friday, If I could change one thing in the world, it would be....

It seems like an easy thing to write about, but once you get to thinking about it,
there’s a lot in the world that needs to be changed. I know I’m only 15 but I’ve
done enough reading to know that there’s a lot of problems in the world. The
older generation sure messed things up. They say that we are the future, but
they were the past. They’ll be long gone when we have to fix the mess they
handed us.

Okay. Let me think. What one thing would I change? Hold on. I’m going
downstairs and get something to drink. BRB. Okay. I’m back. Mom called and
asked how I was feeling. Wait! This is crazy. I’m really starting to think someone
is actually reading this. Maybe it’s my subconscious. lol

Okay. I had to do that. This should confuse him if he reads it. What one thing in
the world would I change if I could? I would make lima beans disappear from the
fields. Yuck! I hate lima beans. Mom makes this veggie dish that she serves about
once a week. It contains lima beans. She gets mad because I pick them out before
I eat it. They have absolutely no flavor, and they make me gag when I do attempt
to chew them. So yeah, I’d rid the world of yucky lima beans.

Okay, I cheated. There’s really too much that needs changed. War, poverty,
hunger, homelessness, AIDS, global warming, corrupt governments. So you get
the picture. I’m in a pretty depressed mood. If I start writing about one of these,
it will really make me sad. So I’ll go with lima beans. At least it made me smile
when I wrote it down. Mom's home and she just called me downstairs, so I’ll try
to write more later. Okay?

Okay. I’m back. Ugh!! I started working on my homework assignments and I just
finished. It’s after 10:30 and I have to go to bed soon. I was hoping to have time
to write tonight because some really weird things happened at school.

First, Mr. Byrd gave me this really strange smile when I entered, and he asked me
if I was feeling better. He’s always friendly to everyone when they come into his
room, but today it just seemed different. I can’t explain it. So when I got to
school, everyone was kind of was super nice to me. When I went to my locker,
several of my classmates were just kind of standing around looking all innocent.
Then when I got my books out, they came up and started talking to me, asking
me if I was sick yesterday- stuff like that. Caryn and James even walked me to
class and talked about what we did in our classes yesterday. It just seemed like
everyone was going out of their way to be extra nice to me. Then in second
period, Caryn gave me her notebook and let me copy down all the work I’d
missed. After Mrs. Reynolds gave us our assignment, she told us we could work
together. Caryn, Beverly, James and Richard scooted their desks around me and
we all worked together. It was really strange, but nice too. I mean we’ve been
working together for years, but today just seemed kind of special. Abe, Sarah and
Stephanie worked together on the other side of the room. No one was talking to
them. It was as if they were being ignored by everyone. The same thing happened
3rd period. It seemed like my friends were fighting to walk beside me to class.

It happened at lunch too. After I got my meal, I was confused where I should go
to eat. Normally, I would sit at the table with Abe. But when I walked toward the
tables where our class sits, my friends at two of the tables started calling out my
name for me to sit with them. It felt really good because Sarah and Stephanie
rolled their eyes and appeared to be upset. Abe’s back was to me, so I don’t
know what he did. I ended up sitting with James, Cory, Elizabeth and Richard. For
the first time in two days, I found myself laughing again. Cory is our class clown. I
can’t begin to count the number of times we’ve been assigned additional
homework because he did something to disrupt the class and made the teacher
mad at us.  He’s the only African American in our group, and he’s got this really
super personality. He had us roaring with laughter when he started mimicking Mr.
Byrd when he goes around the room on Friday and checks our journals. He did
this crazy thing with his eyes, sort of like making them go in circles as he
pretended to speed read our journals. It was so funny.

When the bell rang, we started to get up and I noticed Elizabeth and James nod
their head at Cory. He put his hand on my shoulder and asked me to hang around
for a minute as everyone else left. When everyone was gone, he kept his hand on
my shoulder as we headed to Mrs. Griffin’s class. When we got outside her
classroom, he stopped me. “Look, Reggie,” he said. “We’ve all been through thick
and thin since elementary school. I guess   we’ve become like one big family.” I
couldn’t believe it when tears welled up in his eyes. Cory was trying hard not to
cry in front of me. “I just want you to know,” he continued, “that we all got
together after school yesterday and talked.” He squeezed my shoulder. “You’re
still our friend, okay? We don’t care what Abe has been telling everyone.” It was
now time for me to blink away tears as I nodded my head. Just then, the bell rang
and we entered class. The room was deadly quiet as we walked in and took our
seats. I did notice Cory look over at Beverly and nod his head. I had to hold back
tears the rest of the period.

So I learned something really important today. My friends are really my friends. I
wasn’t just someone that has attended classes with them for the past nine years.
I never thought of our group as a family until Cory said it. But I guess we are.
Something really special happened and I have to think about it. Right now I can’t
write anymore because I can’t see the paper because my tears are making this
stupid page all blurry. I’ll write some more tomorrow. I gotta go to bed.

Okay, I’m back. It’s Thursday night. I didn’t get to write yesterday because I was
trying to catch up on the work I missed when I played hooky Monday. Things
seem to be back to normal. No one has said anything, and everyone is treating
me like they did before things happened. Tuesday was nice, though. For at least
one day, I felt really special. I guess my friends don’t have to go out of their way
to let me know they like me. It’s just there all the time. It just took something big
to happen for me to realize that.

I even think Abe is wanting to talk to me again. Everyone has kind of been
ignoring him lately. He isn’t hanging around Sarah and Stephanie much either. For
a few days they seemed to have formed this really close friendship, and they had
kind of isolated themselves from the rest of us. But I’ve noticed Abe staring at me
during classes. He thinks I don’t notice, but I glance occasionally at him. I don’t
know if he’s staring trying to intimidate me, or if he’s attempting to make eye
contact. Maybe he wants to be friends again. I don’t know. I’ll just let him make
the first move. I’d look stupid if I try to talk to him and he calls me names again.   
I mean, looking back, he really didn’t call me a fag. He just asked if I was one. I
know it’s a fine line, but I really would like us to be friends again. Maybe he does

I just added up the words to this entry, and I’m still about 1800 words short. So
I have to think of something to write about. It’s hard when my life is practically
nonexistent. I mean I don’t really do much except sleep, eat and go to school.
God, that sounds really, really boring. It’s even worse when I have to admit my
biggest thrill is sitting at my bedroom window and watch for deer to enter the
backyard. I’m fifteen, going on sixteen. I should be so busy that they need to add
more hours to the day to complete all the things I have to do. Right? I’m not
getting depressed over it because it is the way I’ve wanted to live my life. That is,
until I started keeping this stupid journal. Now that I’m writing my thoughts
down, watching for deer sounds pretty pathetic. Doesn’t it?
                     HOUR AND A HALF TO WATCH 60 MINUTES

That wasted 200 words. LOL. I wonder if Mr. Byrd considers LOL a word?  I think  
I’ll count it as one anyway. Since he’s not reading this, he’ll never know. LOL.
Okay. Now what? Let me go get something to drink. I’ll brb. Is brb 3 words? LOL.

Okay. Back. I have something to write, but it’s really, really, really embarrassing. If
anyone sees this I’ll sink into to the floor and be devoured by a big crater.
Anyway, I would hope that happens. Please God, don’t ever let anyone read this.
Okay, here goes. I don’t know why my penis gets hard all the time. I can't believe
I just confessed to that. But it’s true. When I was going down the stairs to get a
soda, I got hard. I don’t know if it is because I’m in my pajama bottoms and I  
don’t have any underwear on. Maybe the bouncing made it hard. But I mean, it
gets hard all the time. I have an erection when I get up in the morning, eat
breakfast or ride the school bus. I always get one on the bus in the morning and
then when I come home at night. I can be sitting in class taking a test, and the
next think I know, Little Reggie is popping up. Okay, I don’t really call him Little
Reggie. I just made that up. But I mean, I get an erection about a zillion times a
day. I’m pretty sure other guys do to because I see them pressing down on their
pants in class like I do when I get hard. And everyone knows that a book bag
placed conveniently in front of a guy when he gets up is the universal sign of an
erection. Right?

I used to get embarrassed about it, but since it happens to all the guys in my
class, I really don’t worry about it too much. Of course, I’m not going to parade
around with it poking out, but I don’t turn a bright red if someone does happen
to notice it. Besides, it really doesn’t make a big bulge like some of the guys in
class. I saw Cory once with an erection. He was sitting in Algebra last year beside
me. I looked over when I noticed out of the corner of my eye that he put his hand
down inside his pants. He looked around the room to make sure that no one saw
him when he did it. It looked really big when he did it. The head kind of poked out
of the top of his underwear when he adjusted it. I kind of gasped when I saw it,
and I think he knew I saw it, but I looked away and didn’t look back at him the
rest of the period. I had to come home that night and. Oh God, forget I even
began to write that. I would get really, really, really get embarrassed if I confessed
I masturbate.

Okay. I think I just admitted it, didn’t I? LOL. I know all the guys do it because     
I’ve heard them talking about it. I mean they don’t do it in a gay way. They just
say something corny, then they’ll make a fist and pretend like they are doing it.
They  don’t do it around the girls, though. I think it’s just something guys do
with other guys. I’ve never done it, so I  wouldn’t know. LOL. Okay, that didn’t
sound right. Of course, I have done IT. I do IT about three times of day.

Oh God. If you could see my face right now. I even jumped off the bed and ran to
my mirror to see how red my face got when I wrote that. You should see it, it’s
bright red. I bet if I turned my light out, the room would look like a warning light
was going off.  But I can’t help it. When I get hard, and that’s like a zillion times a
day, I get this urge to do IT. Of course I can’t do IT every time. I would probably
get arrested if I pulled it out in the middle of geometry class and started doing IT.
Hehe. Is hehe a word? I’m going to count it anyway. Where was I? Oh right.  I
was talking about doing IT. Anyway, I can’t do IT everywhere, so I have to do IT
when  it’s safe. So I usually do IT when I take a shower in the morning before
school. Sometimes, I do IT twice. Okay, I had to run to the mirror again to see
how red my face is. Then I do IT when I get home from school. The bus ride
always gets me hard. Most days I have to get off the bus with my book bag in
front of me. Then I do IT again when I go to bed. If I didn’t, it would be so hard    
I’d never get any sleep.

I remember the first time IT happened. I think I’d just turned 13. I was laying on
my stomach asleep. I started having this sexy dream. I don’t remember what I
was dreaming because of what happened. I think I was humping the bed, and
then IT happened. I made a mess in the bed. I woke up and all this white stuff
was all inside my pajamas. It had even soaked through onto my sheets. I knew
what it was because I’d heard guys talking about the first time it happened to
them. It happened to most of them when they were doing IT with their hand. I’d
tried a few times, and I got this really neat tingling feeling, but nothing came out.

At first I got really, really happy because IT had finally happened. Then I started to
panic because I didn’t know what to do with the evidence of my first IT. I ran into
my bathroom and cleaned myself off with a wash rag. I threw my pajamas in the
corner and pulled on a pair of underwear. When I went to bed, I had to sleep on
the edge of the bed because the rest was wet from where I did IT. In the morning
I pulled the covers over IT and hid my pajama bottoms until I got home and could
wash them. I would have died if Mom washed my sheet and pajamas and asked
me why they were so stiff. Hehe. She would probably know because    she’s seen
Dad.... NO! I’m covering my eyes. I didn’t just think that! LALALALA!  

I almost got caught a couple of times. Mom usually comes in and says goodnight
to me. She and Dad go to bed around 11:15 after they’ve watched the evening
news. So I try to do IT before she comes to my room. A few times she’s
surprised me by going to bed early. Usually, I pull my legs up and build a tent so if
she knocks, I can put them down and roll over on my back. Once I was doing IT. I
think I was fourteen. Anyway, I was thinking something really sexy and I didn’t
hear her coming up the stairs. I had the covers pulled back and I was laying
completely naked on the bed. She knocked and opened the door, but I think I got
the covers pulled up before she saw me. I’m not sure. If she did see me, she
never said anything. Now I don’t take any chances. I always just built a tent.

I did IT once last year in school. I was really scared, but I had no choice. I had
been fantasizing about this boy all day, and I was sitting in my sixth period when
Little Reggie got really, really hard. He was pressing against my shorts and I just
knew I was going to do IT inside them if I even remotely touched it. I got up and
made sure my shirt was long enough to cover Little Reggie. I told the teacher I
had to go to the bathroom really bad and asked for a hall pass. She gave it to me
and I rushed to the boys’ restroom. Fortunately, no one was in there. I went into
a stall, pulled down my pants and sat down. I held it down while I did IT. IT only
took a few strokes and I heard IT hitting the toilet water. I stood, flushed the
toilet and made sure all of IT disappeared. Just as I was leaving, another boy
rushed in. I laughed all the way back to class and wondered if he was doing what I
had just did.

I can’t believe I just confessed all this. I would never have written it if I thought
someone was going to see it. But I guess all guys do IT. Some just do IT more.   
I used to wear boxers, but now I wear briefs because   it’s easier to hide. Not that
I have all that much to hide. I wasn’t endowed with a very big one. Wait a minute.
Let me get a ruler and measure it.

You wouldn’t believe how red my face is right now. I looked at it in the mirror
when I got the ruler. Okay, let me do this, but don’t watch. Hehehehe. Do I
measure it from the base of my balls, or do I measure it from the top where my
pubic hair is?    I’ll be bigger if I measure it from the bottom and start just above
my balls. Okay, I’ll do it that way. Most guys probably lie about how big they are
anyway. It’s like that map scale where a hundred miles is a half inch. Hehehe.
Okay, I’m not going to lie. It’s 5 ¾ inches long. I don’t know if that’s average or
not. I’ll have to google it later. I don’t know the circumference. If I put my thumb
and index finger around it, they touch. I’ll get Mom’s measuring tape tomorrow
and see how big that is. It’s probably not very thick. Oh well. I’m only 15 going on
16, so I hope it will grow some more.

Okay, I just added and I have over 200 words more than I need.  I can’t believe I
wrote about doing IT. I’ll commit hari kari if anyone ever reads this journal. If you
ever read about a 15 year old boy impaling himself with a sword, you’ll know it’s
me. Okay. I guess I’m going to bed. And yes, to what you’re probably thinking.


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