942 INTRODUCING ANNIE'S ASCENT FROM PRE-TEEN HELL TO HIGH SCHOOL HEAVEN

As yesterday's train of thought proved in serious need of editing, you might choose to tackle it, again, once these words appear at top of that post:
Editing complete :)

September 1958
I am a fourteen year old high school freshman with
Good and bad news to impart
As my preference is to save the best for last
I'll lead with the downer and end with the upper :)
During my first two years in high school
Not one junior or senior guy
Looked at me twice, or once for that matter
If you think that's low self esteem talking, please think again …
You see, my high school had been split down the middle
Meaning that a new building had been erected in
A neighboring town but the organizational skills of
Those empowered to make decisions, which
Had affected the social lives of nearly four thousand teens
Proved lacking in this manner:
Rather than dividing our high school into two separate schools
Freshmen and sophomores
Were bused to the new campus, whille

Juniors and seniors attended the old
And thus did my first two years of high school
Feel like junior high, revisited—except for
One monumental change:
Photos of my teen years show me as
Less roly poly, more curvy, than the pre teen, whose
Defense system had called upon denial to block my spirit from

Sinking in quicksand each time I'd felt humiliated
By a band of bullies

With the start of high school
I did not find myself a wall flower at sock hops as
Had been true throughout junior high, where
My misunderstanding with Joseph
Had caused his defense system to deem me a social pariah
And as my defense system had layered
That traumatic experience atop
The earlier trauma of having been
Targeted by that busload of bullies
I had no clue that these hard knocks had been
Locked within a deep, dark, secret pocket of
My subconscious, which proved to be quite a trickster

In fact, just as denial had tricked me into believing that
My childhood had been ideal

I had no clue as to why
My self confident smile trembled with fear every time
An attractive male drew too near …
Anyway, once instinct had locked the door on
childhood trauma, I felt free to
Flash my high spirited smile, in class after class, at
Girls whose desks had neighbored mine, suggesting
That those hard knocks in junior high, which
Had left me feeling lonely, had not
Knocked out my natural knack for making new friends

And if you wonder why this freshman felt the need
To choose new friends over old, well

Let's take a moment to reminisce over posts titled
FIRST KISS where I'd felt sadly stung upon being told:
Annie, we want to invite you to our parties, but

If we do, Joseph won't come, and

If he stays home, so will the other boys …

As buckling under peer pressure did not speak of friendship to me

Intuition suggested my starting fresh

Along with the rest of my huge, freshman class
Upon further reflection, clarity suggests that
Making friends with both genders
Came easy to me as long as guy pals
came close enough to look but not—touch—because
Any hint of hanky panky scared me silly …
(Guess that dark pocket in which childhood trauma had been locked
Was not as deeply buried, as I'd thunk, suggesting that
The threatening nature of repressed trauma, left unhealed
Hovers just beneath conscious awareness wherever we go)

At any rate, here's why
That split in our high school actually worked for me—
I found myself moving from class to class with
My social self confidence intact for this reason:
The guys I came in contact with were so young and
Inexperienced as to have felt as shy with me as
I'd felt shy with them, so
No one made a move on me that I couldn't handle

Some time during my first semester
I was shocked to have been invited to
Pledge a girls' social club, made up of
Freshmen, just like me—and much to my delight
My new friend, Debbi and I found ourselves
Voted into the inner sanctum of this select group, suggesting that
The natural warmth of a high spirited smile had offered
This social pariah a ready made social circle that felt heaven-sent
And if you'd thought to ask why, in a class of eight hundred kids
I'd been one of the chosen, I truly had no clue ...
Perhaps the process of choosing went something like ...
'Eeney, meany, miney, moe'… 
Next up?
FIRST KISS—whoops, we've already covered that disaster, so
Let's move on to:
FIRST DATE :)