Bumpy Road

Where It All Begins

You don't need a reminder to hate yourself when you have a wonderful classmate who hates the very core of your being.

They are very creative with their words, I should say.

because I'm not that easily offended but the way they structure it? It's like art itself.

Sadly,

If only they put that in their faces, maybe that will do them justice.

They all put their faces at me, always reminding me that I'm many steps away from them. As if, I'm trying to reach them.

When I think about it again, I wonder why they chose me out of forty students.

I want to be chosen, but not like this.

I'm the face of mockery.

People like them are the reason why kids die at such a young age, I almost did—but oh well, I chickened out.

I suppose I'm glad my fear is stronger than my dying.

Such a cruel thought, I'm afraid.

The only escape that I could think of was not being able to breathe again, how could a child think of that you might say?

If they get pushed enough to fall, eventually they will reach the point that it's better if they are the ones who push themselves.

The cliff was the first thing that came to my mind.

Because of that, I developed my fear of heights. Just thinking about it, makes me want to puke.

I can't even do anything without their eyes on me, it's like I am a display for them to watch.

I hope they enjoyed the show.

I remember the feeling where it gets suffocating whenever the class starts.

Another pain, I need to endure for the whole day. That is what I think about.

My favorite was when the bell rang and it was time to pack our bags and leave, just thinking about home makes me feel alive again.

Although,

Home wasn't that warm either, but I prefer it more than school.

When I am home, there are no prying eyes, and no mouths to throw words at me.

School is our second home, they say. Well, they should have been more specific about that. Because the school that I go to wasn't welcoming at all.

I have been in surviving mode all those years.

Is that what home supposed to feel like?

I am always on the verge of breaking down. Tearing the school to pieces at that time seems a great idea to me.

Just so they could feel the rage I felt.

The thing is I don't even know what hatred means at that time, but I know how it felt.

Enduring it was the hardest thing because I badly wanted to end it.

The one thing that keeps me standing is fear.

Fearing of what comes next after death, or is there even 'after'

Well, I also fear that it may hurt, and I don't want to deal with that.

Because I'm too sensitive to pain.

I realized I could also be a bad person, why?
If they pushed me too far, I could even kill one or two.

But that is just a childish thought, isn't it? 

I'm not a murderer, but I definitely could be. That is what I said.

I'm thinking of ending it, but I'm also thinking that it's better if I end them first.

Why is it so hard for them to be kind? I do it every day without being remorseful. Do they simply lack at that, or do they enjoy torturing people emotionally?

How can they sleep so peacefully knowing that they have hurt an individual just like them?

I want to understand them, but I mentally can't.

I do not enjoy hurting people, so why do they? Was the question I asked myself.

No one even cares if I speak up, because they don't want to hear my side.

My voice can't reach their ears because the person that is speaking those words, isn't important to them.

That is why I want to become important, and by being important I mean I want to be one of them.

Rich and smart. Those two things are the reasons why they could smile so freely, and do everything they want.

I want to do everything I want, but not like how they do it.

I want to be kind and loving because I'm no better than them if I did what they did to me.

This is where I learned, that knowledge is indeed power.