I was often very worried when I was walking to school, because I was scared by the thought that I might get asked in class, and I often wanted to just be left alone to find peace. Because of this, the days of tests were one of my favorites, since I could be more or less calm that I would not have to speak that day. Then I again began to worry about what people think of me, because a few months earlier one of my village friends finally told me why they gave me the nickname that they had been calling me for many years – it was associated with stuttering. This was the next moment when I again lost confidence in myself and in my speech, after I acquired it with great difficulty.

The speech situation also did not improve after the new teacher asked me to answer in biology class. After my answer, one of my classmates named Olga spoke to the teacher about stuttering and how to fix it. I well remember the teacher's phrase that “nerve cells do not regenerate”. It did not sound very inspiring for me…

I continued to masturbate and soon began to look forward to the time when I would be home alone. Alas, when the spring holidays came, the time when we always went to the village, I decided to stay at home. In the ninth grade, my mother often began to visit her sister for a couple of days and leave me alone so that I could study more calmly in our one-bedroom apartment. But, alas, I also used this time to watch erotic films on one of the television channels at midnight of another Friday. Naturally, I did not just watch them. I masturbated then every day and sometimes several times a day. Of course, then I did not want people to find out about what I was doing with myself – this would have been a disaster for me. After some time, a rather interesting and funny moment happened at the school, when one of my classmates jokingly said that “Zhenya does not smoke, does not drink, only masturbates.” And I had a question in my head – how does he know? I do not think he actually knew, but nevertheless, that simple joke was destined to become something more in the following years…

It is worth noting that I often looked at the icons of saints behind the glass on the shelf, and the thought sometimes visited my head – what if there really is something more to this life, and all the secrets will sooner or later actually become apparent? I was not very comfortable then at the thought, but my favorite habit was overpowering me every time.

Because of wild speech stammering, when, for example, I could not say anything, holding out my tongue, which seemed to not listen to me while jerking in convulsions, I began to think about death, because I perfectly understood that such me would not have a life – at least not the life that I wanted, where I would be the same as everyone else – neither more nor less.

I told my mother that at school I again had problems with speech. I do not think we went to the doctor that day for the next pills, which in any case did not really help, but my mother then told me to think about what to say at school tomorrow. I took this advice too seriously and began to imagine before falling asleep about what could happen tomorrow at school. This did not help, but rather, on the contrary, made the situation worse.

It is noteworthy that before that wrong advice from my mother, I thought that you just need to learn your lesson and live your life. And when a teacher asks me to answer a question in class, I will remember the necessary information if I have learned and understood the essence of the subject being studied.