Seventeen

[WunderSchlampe]

Yeah guys, sorry about that, I was really tired tonight when I posted so I posted in the wrong category.
Then I read the damn thing through again this morning and realised it wasn't exactly ready yet, something
I failed to notice in my late hour wastedness. I'm pretty satisfied now, so once again:
Oh and If ya make it through please do criticize.

It's still called 'Seventeen'

What I liked most about being seventeen were those gorgeous male bottoms in patterned underpants, khakis hanging low. Whatever the attraction, I daydream about those still. I miss the sexual tension that was always brewing, the sweat-beaded football guys, strained leg muscles and the moves, the girls in mini skirts competing to be the most eye-catching. The year all the guys wore buttoned shirts just so they could show a little too much chest is etched in my memory. Strange thing is that I'm really one for long hair; long hair is beautiful, long hair is masculine; sexy in a biker kind of way... Never mind that at seventeen though; androgyny was the height of fashion, sensual with every move, alluring in a suggestive way. My brain plays those images in slow-motion. The way I remember it I was not really one to actively participate in this game of silent seduction, I do not recall feeling the need to be attractive; was never really a girl, one could say. Rather did I sit and watch, fascinated, engrossed by the beauty of our sexual exaltation. The thing is that if you watch enough people for long enough eventually someone is going to look back. Also there is something in everybody that is interesting, that is attractive, or cute. Being seventeen to me was realising I could fall in love with anyone; in everyone I really watched I found something I fell for; but in everyone I could also find something that repelled me. I could fall for anyone yet no one at all. I remember Secondary school as a time of eternal sunshine, hot fragrant wood and football, football I remember very distinctly. I remember every movement of every single muscle moving in the entire body of this one guy because I watched him play until I'd seen it all. None of it was innocent back then. None of us were innocent. Little did we know. Maybe it was nothing more then a hot summer, but I remember it being loaded with an omnipresent and sultry intimacy. Every move was devoted to getting closer to one another, all individuals lost in an ecstatic movement of becoming one; at the same time striving to find one's personal groove. Every day was a day spent drunk amidst the masses at a kick-ass rock concert. Every day was a fluttering stomach day. Everything was exciting; the promise of something extraordinary was in the air. Being seventeen was our era of yearning, when we wanted to grab anything that was all new, when we knew that around every corner we might find an exciting new challenge. Being seventeen was a continuous hormonal trip without need for any drugs whatsoever.I'm twenty-one and I just want to sit on my ass and I particularly do NOT want to be surprised and yet I am nostalgic about those fantastic years when exploration was in order: At seventeen we all felt as if we were at the height of life, like we knew all that was worth knowing; we felt grown-up. Yet on that account many of us forgot that being seventeen we were entitled to behave like seventeen year olds. We thought we had to be serious individuals who ought to talk about serious topics; we read serious literature, watched weighty films, listened to intellectual music. We had sex because to just fool around was for kids. We rejected that sort of magic that we were wading in, living in a paradoxical bubble. We were doing earnest things, unaware that we interpreted them with the same playful foolishness that our entire environment consisted off; we rebelled against being seventeen; we relished being seventeen. Recently I rediscovered adolescence... it wasn't until I caught myself wearing yellow nail polish and a miniskirt that I realised what had happened. Taking the concept of being a sensible teenager to absurd levels was not a solution to any (imagined?) problem, it was simple self-repression. I had to become 21! to realise that there is nothing wrong with being silly, being corny or giddy. Allowing myself to be seventeen, which is actually quite liberating, made me think about people from back then. A lot of people important to me; with some I shared an electrical connection; with a few I experienced an intense bond. Yet there is only one person who to me is the embodiment of being seventeen. He looked like love waiting to happen... or maybe it was sex? I don't know; never was quite able to tell the difference; as far as spiritual connections go though, I think he and I about reached the summit. I had this dream once... there appeared to be three people that I was involved with and only one of them was interested in having me for himself. He begged me to be his... at least I think that's what he did. Only I can't remember him arguing or being emotional; in fact he didn't say a word. I fear that I find this mostly pathetic; begging something of someone is not fair, there is no right or wrong thing to do; with begging there's always someone gets hurt. This person, though, this person made his plead the most sexual, irresistible sight man has ever displayed. All he did was move up to and look at me; blue eyes, piercing gaze, hankering lips slightly parted; simply irresistible: daring me to resist. The only comparison that comes to mind is that of the classic Clint Eastwood, but overwhelmingly seductive instead of calculated and knowing. I woke up not knowing what happens next, but I knew if I'd kept on dreaming I'd have done anything he asked of me. It's the same with this guy; I would do anything he asked of me, still...I look back with the same curious feeling of a hot summer day and I suppose I have to acknowledge that there was and will never be a more sexy and lovely person who knew how to wear his pants with his boxers showing. I bear the haircut in mind that I loved to hate and feel no less light-headed. I guess this kind of love never fades. Things may end and teens grow up; but, call me a fool, people are not two-dimensional: it just never fades.

[tandino]

Lovely words.

That was great. It reminded me of great, great days that I obviously didn't appreciate at the time. I'm 29 now (fucking scary now I've seen it written down) and still don't feel a day over 18 mentally and I doubt I ever will. Thanks for sharing. Only criticism is paragraphs please - much easier to read that way.

[WunderSchlampe]

paragraphs please

I was in doubt about that, whether to keep the stream of consciousness-like layout or to make separate paragraph.
So thanks : ) I'll change that!

[tandino]

paragraphs please

I was in doubt about that, whether to keep the stream of consciousness-like layout or to make separate paragraph.
So thanks : ) I'll change that!

I thought it'd be something like that - both work in my opinion!

[FatherJack]

Sorry for not replying earlier, meant to, Brumbash/tandino reminded me.

I really liked this, while it was a little difficult to scan without paragraphs, it worked well as a mind-dump, stream-of-consciousness thing - at least up until the dream at the end.

The dream should've been separate, given that's kind of where it ended, since I was expecting another dive back into the present, the dream having been only an aside - but with the brief conclusion coming right after the dream I almost felt I'd missed a line or two.

I can't commend you highly enough on the use of a language which isn't your first one, given that you expertly express feelings and emotions which many of us struggle to convey in our own language and which displays an amazing ability to describe a slice of time so perfectly. Your use of said language, with for example juxtapositions like "he begged me, without saying a word", is something I particularly delight in.

I especially liked that within the first sentences you drew the reader into your world through what are probably shared experiences for most people, yet were able to keep them with you for what you experienced personally later on, as the affinity carried through. It's a trick not many can pull off and if you could replicate that with fictional characters of your own then I can see you as a great writer if you choose to pursue it.

[Roman Totale]

Also, happy birthday for yesterday!

[TezzRexx]

Also, happy birthday for yesterday!

[deject]

Also, happy birthday for yesterday!

this!

[WunderSchlampe]

Hi guys : ) and thanks for the birthday cake/wishes!
It's really great to have gotten some criticism on my piece, cause my friends here don't
seem to understand a word of what I write. I'm still kind of sceptical about my written English,
because the more I learn the more I notice that I don't know. It's cool to hear that you native speakers
can see some promise there. Anyone want to read more extensive pieces? ^^

[Joose]

Anyone want to read more extensive pieces? ^^