Ever since my earliest memories, I somehow never really felt complete, never really felt accepted, never felt that the Gary other people saw was the Gary that I saw. Looking in the mirror I detested what I saw. I guess what I felt about myself was just a selfish young boy that had five years of being the only child, and then along came my brother and sister, twins, and all the focus shifted.

Being the eldest I was under some very strict rules. Always expected to excel at school, constantly challenged about being good, “you’re the eldest you should know better. Its strange as you grow up you don’t realize the development that takes place in your mind.

For as long as I can remember, I knew that I was different. Even when I didn’t know why, I felt like I didn’t quite fit in with the other kids. Teachers used words like “unique” and “creative” to describe me, but most often, what I heard was “weird”. I had always had different interests, I spent my time playing in my own imaginary world, and rather than play sports with the other guys in my neighborhood I would often curl up somewhere and read. I was an emotional child, very sensitive, who loved to show affection and who cried easily.

Often I felt rejected for showing emotion, particularly for crying which wasn’t seen as masculine. I had often wondered why I felt more comfortable by myself than with others. Mainly because if I couldn’t accept me, I assumed no one else could. I spent a lot of time after school fishing. By myself of course. I was 11 years old, and both my parents allowed me to walk to the beach not far from where we lived.

The sand hills to the south of the beach were always crawling with naked men. Dad said I wasn’t to go there at all. That those men were “queers”. I never ever went there, content with fishing from the rocks. One fateful day on my return from the fishing, I was followed by a man, wearing purple Speedos, with the logo slightly worn, I picture it very clearly. He was not far behind me along the sand track that lead from the beach to the car park area at Spoon Bay Road.

He asked me if I had caught any. I remember being reluctant to answer, being reminded of those stranger danger messages at school. However he asked me again and I told him I hadn’t had any luck. At this stage he had caught up with me and positioned himself in front of me, he had an orange bath towel and he wouldn’t let me pass.

I remember him saying he was working for an airline, asking if I like planes, I didn’t know what to say, he was clearly getting erect and asked me to rub him, that it was ok. I said I shouldn’t that it wasn’t right, but he grabbed my hand and in a fright I dropped my fishing rod and gear. He forced my hand upon him and rubbed his penis.

He also ran his hand up my board shorts and tried to digitally penetrate me. I was at this stage so silent, I couldn’t talk, couldn’t move. It was like hours but in reality only ten minutes before we heard someone coming down the track and he moved off.

I ran home and hid in my fathers shed. Dad found me in there and saw I was visibly frightened. I told him that one of those queers followed me. He was angry yet said that we should keep this to ourselves. That day changed me forever. No longer could I get changed with my schoolmates for sport, football, swimming. I ceased fishing.

In fact I started convincing Mr. Beer the PE teacher that I was chronically ill, that I couldn’t participate in PE, and was assigned to go to the library to help stack books. I couldn’t face anyone that was a guy getting changed. Swimming carnivals I wagged. I just felt lost.

Was it my fault that this had happened? Will someone tell me that what I did wasn’t wrong or if it was how do I stop dreaming of it, how do I stop being totally frightened by it?

Looking back over the years I have never really known who Gary Martin was, never really understood what was expected of me, felt more comfortable by myself, at home I have become a prisoner in my mind, in my home. From that moment in life I changed.

From that day on I believed that there was something wrong with me, that I was weird. The popular guys in my class who could play sports, and always had girls paying attention to them would often tease me, and even beat me up. I hated them, but even deeper inside I wanted to be them, to be cool, to be athletic.

Loneliness
Dark Hole, Falling Farther-Farther, where does it end? Can I climb out?
Spiraling downward downward, HELP ME! I scream, but no one can hear me
No one can help me
No one is near me. I’ve done all of this, and now they all fear me. I did nothing wrong to deserve all this strife, I’ve done nothing wrong, to deserve this life! Why must I feel alone, no matter who I’m with I think I’ll be alone until my last breath.