Sometime later, a group of classmates and I were waiting for the start of a lesson. One of the guys expressed his opinion that in our class all the girls were not beautiful, if one was to convey his words in a mild form. Then they drew attention to other “not beautiful” girls, and another guy said: “To fuck such girls – is to disrespect yourself”. Although everything was fine with my appearance at that time, I still combined this statement with my speech problems, believing that all the girls whom I would try to approached would think the same about me. Then I finally dismissed the idea of approaching the girl with whom I was in love, and then I made another the most serious mistake of my life.
I had moments when I started to fantasize about something or someone, but I essentially did it before bedtime. I can only recall the event at the dentist. In childhood, I could not stand the pain when drilling teeth. Then my mother led me to check my teeth at the dental clinic on Prostornaya Street, and again I had tooth decay. Then I saw a flitting bird on a nearby building, which has now been demolished to build two multi-story residential buildings. While my tooth was being drilled, I decided to try to go into fantasies, imagining a story about that bird – and it really helped me. This was the first time that I was able to calmly endure the pain, as I simply “turned it off” – there was pain, but at the same time I did not feel it, being in my mind somewhere else.
But in the ninth grade, I decided that I would deliberately fantasize about someone in all my free time. Otherwise, I would have just taken my own life, because I could not bear all that load; because of speech problems my life was breaking before it had even begun, and I could not do anything about it. Then I listened to foreign music on musical radio stations every day, and also watched MTV, and I began to fantasize about one of the popular, at that time, singers. Of course, in my fantasies everything happened as I wanted it to – there was no stuttering or stiffness. I often fantasized about the same idea again, because I wanted to “relive” it once more, making, from time to time, certain changes in some details. Alas, I fantasized about the blonde girl, as well as about her friend. Then I fantasized about other girls and celebrities. And once I created in my imagination a girl who settled in a new house in our village, where at that time there was a vacant lot. There is no need to mention that we had sex and everything that I just wanted to imagine. Of course, when we went on summer vacation and drove past that lot, there was no house and, respectively, a girl.
I think that I should mention here that even before I started to actively dream, I thought briefly if people could see that I was dreaming. And I had confirmation of my guesses when in the ninth grade our class teacher mentioned to the whole class that I was smiling at something, and one of the students replied that I was constantly smiling. I do not remember that during that period of my life I paid much attention to the significance of that event.
But soon another case happened when I was sitting with my classmate Vova's on a bench near the locker room. Vova's acquaintances from another class were standing next to us.
It was the first floor of the school, and on the opposite bench, but closer to the aisle to the dining room, the same blonde girl sat down, from whom I could hardly take my eyes away. Her red-haired friend was with her too.
At some point, one of Vova's acquaintances looked at me and with a crooked smile told his friend some unflattering words about me. I immediately realized what the reason was, and I almost as quickly stopped daydreaming. When the other guy looked at me, he said that everything was fine with me.
At that time, I had such a character trait that I could not change myself after the vile statements of someone about me, as this would mean that they, people who contemptuously treated me, were right, and I myself would remember my life’s bad episode with them for the rest of my life – which I did not want at all back then and in every possible way tried to forget everything negative, immersing myself in my inner world.
Also, I could not live in reality back then, since I could not be the person I could be if I did not stutter. And I often began to think about justice in life. How is it that I not only never harmed anyone in my life, moreover, I was a friendly and cheerful person who loved nature and life in general, but in spite of all this I had to suffer so much from the age of five? Why do those people who commit the wildest crimes live happily ever after if they are never caught by the police? Where is justice in this life?
Soon my grandmother died. I was so immersed in myself that I could not feel any emotions. I understood what had happened, but everything was as if in a haze, and as if it did not directly concern me, it was something distant. I wanted to get rid of constant stress – and I managed to do it, but at what cost…
The school year was drawing to a close, and it was time for exams. Without hesitation, I decided to continue to study in school for the tenth and eleventh grade. I had good grades, except for the second quarter where I had two 3s because I first started skipping school, but since studying was not a big problem for me, I was able to catch up with the curriculum and close almost all bad grades I got during that period. There were two strict teachers who decided to put 3s in the annual standings, but this was not a problem, and I was taken to the tenth grade.
Speaking of truancy, my mother and I started quarreling in the ninth grade due to the fact that I started not wanting to go to school, because my life was crumbling, and so studying wasn’t the top priority for me. Once we quarreled so much that at midnight I went to my father's apartment with a full rucksack of textbooks on my back, but at a quarter of the way I realized how far I had to go and decided to return to my mother's apartment. I remember how then the police car made a circle around me at the turn to the Lokomotiv stadium, but then it drove further along the highway, where it was driving originally. Our quarrels began to decline, when after a couple of years we quarreled again, I looked at her and I was amazed to realize that she had clearly aged. She was missing some teeth. I do not know how, but I did not notice this before. Then my eyes began to open up slightly, and I tried to avoid quarrels with my mother so that she would not be nervous.
Alas, from time to time I also tried to get sick so as not to go to school. And sometimes I really managed to do it. So much the fear of speech dulled then my thinking…
Everything was almost the same in the village. Longtime friends created a comfortable zone.
Perhaps it was in that year that I decided to try drinking alcohol. Many of my friends started drinking beer and wine some time ago. I put up a fight for a long time, but in the end I could not resist. I do not remember how exactly this happened, and it does not really matter, the important fact here is that I drank alcohol with the rest, but I never touched vodka. It is worth saying that I never got drunk and knew the limits. Also, I always remembered everything that happened to me during alcoholic intoxication.
Many of us also had motorcycles and motor scooters that replaced quiet and clean bicycles. We often fiddled with our iron horses, repairing them almost every day. I had Voskhod 2M, which was given to me by my first cousin once-removed. I remember that I soiled my clothes with that motorcycle so much that it was no longer washable.
Summer was not without problems. A couple of months ago, when I was still in ninth grade, my nail scissors stopped being serviceable. The two points did not fit snugly against each other and were spread wide in different directions. The obvious decision would be to go and buy new scissors downstairs in the store, but I could not do it because of the fear that I would have to speak with the seller. Because of that I continued to cut my nails with old scissors which led to terrible bleeding sores on my big toes that simply could not heal before the nails grew into them. It all ended up that we had to go to a Moscow hospital where they cut out a third of my toenail. Riding home on the tram, I grabbed the seat handle in front of me – so much it hurt; but apparently I wasn’t hurt enough not to masturbate again when I was already at home…