The boy I loved at school…..
The boy I felt was the pure living embodiment of beauty, purity and genius….
The boy who filled me with such an overwhelming feeling of tenderness….
The boy in who’s prescence I became a stammering, awkward wretch…..
The boy I wanted so much to impress…..
The boy who’s friendship would have meant the world to me…..
The boy under who’s spell I composed my best and most personal music….
The boy for whom I would have done anything because I loved him so much…
The boy who never gave me the time of day….
The boy who deliberately and maliciously ignored the many letters I sent to him trying to establish a rapport based on a shared interest in music….
The boy who deliberately and maliciously ignored my repeated requests that my letters be returned if they were not wanted……
The boy to whom I was merely a psychological cripple who was living my life through him…..
The boy who told me down the phone that my feelings were “crap”, that I was deluded and that all the stuff I’d written him about Kandinsky, Schoenberg, Dadaism, Gnosticism and many other interests “didn’t mean a thing” to him…..
The boy who’s subsequent engagement was announced in the School Magazine….
The boy who thought it was unfair of me to expect him to tell me he wasn’t gay because “you had no reason to think I was”…..
The boy against who’s implacable silence I threw everything I had until it finally broke me and caused me to distrust humanity……
The boy who sat silently detached as I ground myself down into the ground trying to communicate with him on some level or another…
The boy who’s “Sincerest Best Wishes For The Future” was about as hollow and glib sounding as it possibly could be……..
The boy who subsequently wrote apologizing for the way he treated me…..
The boy who thanked me for sending him the tape of my music saying he was truly fascinated to hear it despite my having sent him scores previously to be met with silence……
The boy who assured me that he was no longer the heartless arrogant bastard I had every right to think him…….
The boy who said that his only excuse for his previous behaviour was that he thought he was acting with the best of intentions but that maturity had shown just how vile he had been to me……
The boy on whom (in my darkest hours) I wished a slow and painful death….
The boy from whom (in my darkest hours) I wished to hear nothing more unless it was an obituary………