Personally

“What am I? Why am I the way that I am? How did I become these things?” These are the questions that haunt my mind late at night while I lay on my bed, alone again for the millionth night since I started caring.

I think everything started back when I first moved and was able to remember it in some kind of detail. We moved to a town I heard very little of and thought was a certain way. I found out soon the things I thought were wrong. I ended up paying for my ignorance with the loss of any kind of good reputation that I could have formed on my first week of school. From this point on, I was like a walking bulls eye for everyone with even the littlest of insecurity issues. Thinking I was doing some kind of good by not stooping to their level, I let them believe that they were better than myself. I hoped that the teasing and bullying would stop. Unfortunately, the teasing and taunting continued for many years. Eventually, their teasing became truth. No matter how much I wanted to not listen, the truth always found my ear. What started out as nothing more but a twisted act of kindness on my part to make my fellow students feel as if they were better than myself became a slow, painful, depressing torture where truth was the casting stone.

I remember being told that Valentine’s Day was a day were people got along. The innocence of my child-like mind still wants to believe this. What happened to me in fifth grade, however, convinced me one thing. Like the naïve little boy that I am, I collected various and cheaply printed cards and a cheaply made box. The items were to make the traditional Valentine’s Day cards and collection box that I have made the years before. Thinking that this would be my next best chance to make some kind of friend, I stupidly handed out every last card. Come lunch time, my Valentine’s Day became a living hell. My box was stolen from my feeble grasp and torn to shreds above my head. Torn cards, all of which were the ones that I gave out, came raining down upon me as if like confetti. My heart, which later healed thanks to some thought, broke. I then knew that I could never have any real friends. There is no such thing as friendship. There is no such thing as true love.

I was twelve at the time, so naturally, as soon as the hormones kicked in, I realized the truth. No one knows what love really is. No one knows what real friendship is. Being much older and a little bit wiser, I thought the people I was always around would be the same way. While the majority of the populous were, I found out that several others still never made that transition from being childish to being mature. Unfortunately, I am still in the transitional stage.

I was popular in high school among the ones that obviously had some kind of superiority problem. I was the butt of everyone’s joke. I tried to not get angry about any of them, but one nearly threw me over the edge. This happened in P. E. A class notorious for torturing the unfit and making the stupid feel like they are good at something. Of course, this was high school P. E., and as such, you were required to change in the locker rooms with lockless lockers. One day, after class, I decide to help put away the equipment we used. Upon coming back to the locker room to change, I noticed that my clothes were wet. Upon further examination, I come to find out that my clothes were urinated on. This was the straw that broke the camel’s back. I immediately complained and was forced to spend the rest of the day in my ugly gym uniform. These things were obvious designed to absorb sweat and not be easy on the eyes.

So what am I? I believe that I am nothing more than a tool and very expendable. Why am I the way that I am? Believe it or not, I still think that everything that I had to endure was all in charity to those foolish enough to think they are superior than everyone else by displaying it in a public fashion. My logic in this matter is so twisted, sometimes confusing even myself. How did I become to be an expendable tool for those with insecurities and superiority issues? I let it happen. I let people who obviously were weaker than myself make me the weak one just so they can feel better about themselves. Some questions still remain unanswered. Will my choice, if it has not already, affect my social life and how I approach people and make friends? Will I, if I have not already, become exactly like those who teased and made fun of me? Will something worst happen such as some kind of dependency complex where I need some kind of affirmation in that I am not as weak, stupid, or slow as those whom made me feel weak, stupid, and slow to better justify themselves? On top of all these, there is one more question that I wish I knew the answer to. Is there anyone out there, if any, that are genuinely nice or is being nice nothing more but a guise to help better one’s self up the social status quo? In other words, is everyone in the world cruel towards each other because the only one that is deemed important is their own self? I want to believe that there are people out there who can endure all the shit the world hands to them. I want to believe that there are people living in this day and age that actually care and are not pretending to do so because it makes themselves feel better. I want to believe that those like myself are indeed stronger than the ones that need to taunt and tease to make themselves seem stronger. I want to believe, but I am no longer sure anymore.

I hope I got my point across.