The first real fight I got in happened when a kid rubbed fromunda cheese on my head. Cheese fromunda his balls. Ball sweat. He’d already hit puberty and was a lot bigger, so it was to everyone’s surprise — mine especially — when I tackled him to the ground and punched him in the face a few times.

Around that time, a few kids wanted to practice their wrestling moves, so they invited me to a nearby field. I had bad asthma and no experience wrestling. They circled and circled and practiced takedowns on me. Soon enough I was very dizzy and beat up and out of breath, feeling pretty terrible. It dawned on me later that they just wanted to beat me up. They both became drug addicts before I was able to exact any revenge.

Another time an older kid kept me in a headlock for 3 hours while he was conversing with a bunch of people at someone’s house. Just for fun. He also became a drug addict before I was able to exact any revenge.

In eighth grade a loner punched me in the stomach at recess for no reason. I never found out why. So I fought him at a local park after school. I ended up pinning him down and punching him and making him say that I won. I regretted that. I knew when I saw him that he also didn’t know why he punched me.

I got in two fights in high school with kids who had real thick skulls. They both tried to punk me in front of people. Yet again I scheduled some fights after school where I punched them in their big heads. I don’t know why they tried to punk me. I think they were bored.

One day on the bus me and this other kid were wrestling and I got him in a headlock. Suddenly something changed. He got real upset. When I went to let him go I knew he was going to try to hit me. So I held on. But that just made him more upset. So there I was trying to not get into a big fight, holding on to this headlock. When the bus finally let out I let him go and his eyes were filled with tears. He hated me ever since but I really didn’t mean it. I regretted that one a lot.

When I was nearly graduated from high school I punched my brother as hard as I could. He was right in the middle of calling me a faggot. Right at the beginning of the “got” part. He was stretching the word out for effect. He dropped to the floor and my dad broke it up. He had a black eye for a week.

That summer my friend fought some kid whose dad was encouraging him to stick up for himself. My friend won the fight pretty quick. He had a big ego after that. Only a few weeks later, he was talking trash to people walking down the street and they beat him up pretty quick. I didn’t jump in. I don’t know if I didn’t jump in because I was scared or because I thought he deserved it.

When I got to college I punched a guy in the arm for not giving me a video game controller and he said “Hey man you can’t just hit people like that”. That was a teachable moment. Right about then and there I stopped hitting people.