Now that I started with my own story, I 've been giving some thought about the darker parts I have to write. So far, not so good, but at least it would resemble normality. With a twist, but still, normality. I now realize that it took only few years for the twist to take over.
I don't remember precisely the dates. For 30 years, I've been working on forgetting them as well as any other details from those days. It still feels dangerous to reopen Pandora's box.
What I know is that I had a very bad time in the early 90s. From when I was 15 to 18, several significant changes happened in my life.
My parents stopped working at the restaurant and I have no recollection of what they did afterwards... I just know the restaurant was gone.
My grand-mother died. Consequently, we would have to take care of my grand-father as in that "family" men are not supposed to cook or do any housework. As mentioned previously, this would raise tensions around the table.
We moved from downtown to a house further away from my high school. This meant that I would walk back home (about 3 km) twice a day.
It's also about that time we stopped spending the summer in Italy, the only place where I would ever feel fine...
During those years my asocial behaviour turned into a constant rebellion. I was in a "Catholic" school that made me sick, literally. I hated 95% of the people there — teachers and students. As it was a private school, there were annual fees to pay. During my last years there, I got aware that my parents couldn't even settle those fees. Still, they would force me to stay in this posh shit hole. I felt totally out of place, though I had excellent academic results. I begged my mother a million times to change school. A wall. That's when I stopped talking to my parents. They could have spared me the humiliation and the mental suffering, they chose not to.
Outside of school, I had no hobbies though I loved listening to hard rock and heavy metal.
In 92, I started hanging around with local bands but there was something off, I just didn't belong. I remember that the guitar player of one of those bands got my attention. The very first time we met I just looked at him enough to hate him. I had no clue who he was, but I just didn't like his look. A few weeks later, I saw him again, this time on stage. I changed my mind from one extreme to another in an eyeblink. I had kept a concert poster of his band featuring digital prints in black and above them the name of the band, in red. It would be the first thing I'd see in the morning when I got up...
In any case, my main focus was still schoolwork and being the way I was/am, it meant I pushed it to the extreme. A nasty "nothing-else-to-do syndrome".
Physically, over 10 years of French classic dishes twice a day and very little training had put me a bit on the heavy side. I was not really fat, but I wasn't slim either. In the early 90s context, the universal model of beauty was a thin/slim body. So during the summer vacation of 92 (or 91?), I focused on fixing this "minor issue". In a few months I lost several kilos. I don't think I was on any diet, I just started walking a lot. I actually found some relief in very long walks, always by myself. It's still the case today, I'm a die-hard walker.
In September I got a lot of compliments about my "wonderful" new body shape from all those school bitches I hated. The only time we would exchange words. I had nothing in common with girls in general. Talking about make-up, fashion and boys was not for me.
Months went by. More rage, more hate, more "incidents": from being thrown out by a math teacher due to my "insolent arrogance" and skipping school, to sleeping over without warning, running away, wearing an upside-down cross around my neck, etc.
Still excellent academic results.
In June 1993, I passed the last exam before university, the French baccalauréat, with an average of 18/20, "mention TB" (grade A pass). I remember I got the highest scores in philosophy and graphic arts. I didn't expect such good results. My mother probably thought someone else had taken the tests for me. God? Who knows...
Somehow, this felt like a (bitter) revenge. Finally I could give the finger to all those fuckers , from "my" posh brainless "mates" to the over-bourgeois school director. Unfortunately, this didn't really help on the long term.
In the summer of 93, I had nothing to study anymore so I focused on working out. Until it became everything. I lost even more kilos and in early September, I was seriously underweight (BMI under 15). Weirdly, it felt like I had found myself.
I was supposed to start studying at Sciences-Po Strasbourg but as I also had the possibility to go to Sciences-Po Paris the year after (I had applied too late), I went for that option instead. Very wrong decision. The following months were a downward spiral. Nothing but free time and one brand new obsession... An appetite for destruction.