Temper tantrums, that's what they called them. They labeled him a misfit, anti-social, prone to meltdowns without a moments notice.
Some of which was true, some of which was not.
He was a bright boy, and happy for a large part of the time. He was readily distracted however, and grew bored easily. His mind seemed to be forever pre-occupied with something other than what was actually going on, he was an unrepentant daydreamer.
However, he was also talented, creative, inquisitive - had that certain quest for knowledge that some kids just have.
It wasn't just curiosity, he had a genuine desire to learn. he read at a level well past his peers, and without having to be prodded to do so. He had a library card that allowed him to check out up to ten books at a time by the age of 10, an age when nearly all of his contemporaries were still stumbling through Goodnight Moon or Harold and the Purple Crayon, he was plowing through Treasure Island and Beowulf.
But he was prone to fits of violent rage, that much was undeniable.
Neighbors, friends, teachers - nearly everyone who had known him for at least six months could recount at least one incident where he just seemed to lose all self-control and become a screaming, crying, flailing tasmanian devil
In was inexplicable to most, and even those who should have known he needed the attention of a competent Behavioral Psychologist or at least a Psychiatrist just shrugged off those incidents as acting out, and something he should be able to grow out of.
The idea of therapy of any sort was a moot point though, as the family did not have the financial means to have him examined by medical professionals, and back then access to any free services that might have been of help was non-existent.
So the teachers at the various schools he attended just labeled him a problem child, a troublemaker, a head case.
And various schools he did attend, as he was bounced around a number of schools in hopes that a new start might be the solution,
Of course, that didn't do anything but make him feel more alienated than ever.
When he finally reached a grade level at which school counselors were available, they were woefully unprepared for his particular situation. Those counselors were all there to primarily steer students to particular career or employment directions and to try to keep them from causing trouble, especially trouble at the level that crossed the law.
In his late teens he developed an awareness of his inability to feel safe at anytime, and especially at school.
It wasn't quite paranoia, and it wasn't quite insecurity. Its was a distinct level of unease though, a general feeling that he would not be able to effectively protect himself if the need to do so ever arose.
He began to read various self-help books, especially any books that boasted of being able to help one develop mind control. Naturally that lead to the digestion of a lot of parapsychological claptrap, but he hadn't become skeptical enough to separate the hokum from the empirical yet, so for a few years he embraced quite a bit of what he would later regard as simply foolishness.
All in an effort to fit in better with his fellow humans.
By the time he had graduated high school he was fairly certain he was going to be alright. He didn't have a plan of action for the future - he wasn't even sure what his first steps after high school would be - but he did feel everything was going to be alright.
It took a little more than a decade, but eventually he felt that everything was actually alright, that he was an acceptable part of society, that he belonged.
He still understood, however, that nothing was guaranteed. He could easily let his guard slip and lose control of his temper if a threatening or fearful situation presented itself.
To this day he keeps a constant vigil.
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