Now it's all become clear to me.
It was jealousy.
Jealousy of my blond hair, peaches 'n cream skin, and eyelashes that curled the breezes on which butterlfies flew.
If only I hadn't gotten my teeth knocked out for it... What price beauty!
The experience sure made me question organized religion, private schools, and cliques. I ran. RAN to high school. After a class of 15, it was a cake walk with its 2,000 member student body, range of diversity, and wide hallways where you could hide a Titan missile, much less an escaping homo.
So there you have it, soul bared. And to top it off, they spelled my name wrong. They got "Yoneice Mitchell" right, but couldn't spell "Graeme"? Bastards!