You Broke Me

Coming home isn't always sunshine and rainbows

I am socially fucked.

I am incapable of socializing with people my own age.

I am not able to do anything that even verges on normal to the world's teenage population.

Why?

Because I just don't want to.

When you started reading this, you were probably thinking that I was some awkward social pariah who no one liked, who got teased from day one, and then became a complete outcast when my status of 'Loser,' was made official; there my friend you are mistaken.

I mean, yes, I am an outcast, but not bullied, not a loner, and definitely no social pariah. I'm different, absolutely, I'm a little nuts, hell yeah, and sometimes I go a little overboard with things, all the freakin' time. But an outcast, a loner, a loser...those are labels I wouldn't even associate myself with, if people want to think that, fine, but that just proves what they know, or should I say what they don't know. I guess when people used to look at me they saw a blank canvas (I say this in referral to the fact of their unknowing judgements), therefore all people my age decided, instead of putting pictures on that canvas, that they would cover it us with a big blanket and pretend it wasn't there. They only saw the canvas when it would fall off of the wall and cause some disaster or another, meaning that people only saw me when I decided to blow, unfortunately for them that happened very often. Due to the destruction caused by the canvas, the owners decided to send it away for a while, hoping that when it returned to them it would be fixed.

That's complicated isn't it? Yeah well let's just say I'm the canvas, and I got sent away. That's pretty much all that needs explaining, the rest can be gathered pretty quickly, you'll see.

When I first came to Great Baddow High School I was a bit of a nerd, I hadn't filled out my body yet, I hadn't sorted out my awkwardness, I had braces, wore my hair torn back in a painfully tight ponytail all the time, and basically was a total freak to anyone who looked at me. I was fifteen. I went through that year of school hating myself, I had no friends, I had no one to talk to (that's if you don't include the exeptionally nice old librarian), and when people did spare me a glance all that crossed their faces was disgust. I felt like some sort of disease and it started to way down on my brain I guess, because one day I woke up and for sure had gone crazy. That's the day I started spazzing out at people, the day I started to let all the bottled up anger go at random moments due to the slightest things. By the end of that year all the people at school were scared to look at me, scared to talk to me (no that they had before anyway), they were even scared to talk about me, that in itself must have been hard seeing as I was a pretty prominent gossip topic back then.

Then I just disappeared.

I disappeared from GBHS.

I disappeared from Chelmsford altogether.

I got frequent letters from my parents telling me about how Mrs. Rowen, the principal at Baddow wanted an explanation, and how Ms. Acton from Mum's gardening club was asking why I han't been to see her lately, she was old, I felt for her, and visiting her had become a great hobby of mine. That's how I knew that people actually knew I was gone. And where did I go? Well now that's an interesting story.

But the main point about this is that I'm going back today, back to Chelmsford, back to GBHS, back to my parents, the difference this time is that I've got friends, friends who were willing to give up whatever they had back where they came from to come back with me.

Right now as I sit in the back corner of the bus, my hood drawn over my eyes and my headphones in, these are the things that go through my mind. My story, my past, and let me tell you something, these were things I hadn't thought of much over the past two years. Since I left Baddow High when I was fifteen, I'd kept the memories away, only let them in to fuel me when I needed it most (I admit that was more often than not, but I like to repress that), other than that they'd stayed hidden from sight. Now I was coming back and they just couldn't keep their filthy mitts off of my brain could they?