The Depths of Emotion

Different

I'm different from them.

It happened again today. The same thing that happened yesterday. I jerked around in my seat for over an hour until my body was physically and mentally exhausted. And then, just because of the extra dose of jerking that I get from ADHD, I continued to bounce my leg for the rest of the day.

I don't see anybody else in pain. I don't see anyone else straining themselves because of this stupid mental illness called Tourette Syndrome. Why am I different? Why do I have to endure so much more than them? It's not fair.

That's my true anthem.

Everyday, at school, I say the national anthem. My two favorite lines are, "under God," and "liberty and justice for all." Where's my liberty? I looked this little number up and this is what the good, old dictionary told me: "unwarranted or impertinent freedom in action or speech." Where's my guarantee that I can control my actions? There isn't a guarantee for people like me. In my eyes, there's a large percent of us who don't qualify in that line of the pledge. I wish so badly that I could qualify. I want liberty of my body.

There isn't a place for me to hide,

When the episodes hit, they're like hell. The doctor said that my jerking isn't supposed to bring physical pain. Well, she lied. My brain makes me crack my neck so much that it burns after a while.

What really sucks, is that I have to roll my neck around until I hear a crack. If I don't hear a crack, then I can't stop. It's monotonous and I hate it. I don't want to deal with it anymore. If nobody else has to deal with it, then why should I?

Why should I be forced to sit in a classroom full of normal people who always question me? "Are you okay?" That question makes me want to cry because the reality is, I'm not okay. Especially during that strenuous hour. I always pray that nobody notices, but when it's really bad, they all notice. It's the nice ones that ask if I'm okay.

So watch me swallow my pride.

By this point, I don't have anymore pride. What is there to be proud of? I'm a freak. I looked that word up just for the heck of it. My favorite definition is "a person or animal on exhibition as an example of a strange deviation from nature; monster." I am a monster on exhibition for everyone to see. "Hey, look at that anomaly!"

Days come and go,

There are good days and bad days. I love my good days. Sometimes, they seem to last for forever. The whole second half of the year, that special part of my brain is silent and I'm allowed to be a normal human being. Then, spring comes and it's as if a nuclear war went off in my head. During the spring, I'm more than thankful for the silent days because there are very few.

But nobody will ever know

Nobody truly understands how it feels unless they have the same diagnosis as me. The amount of people in my area with the same problem as me are slim to none. My younger sister and some kid in the year behind me at school are the only people I know in person who have it. I know it's bad of me to want, but I want everyone to else to have it, too. I want everyone to feel the same thing as me. Then, we'd all be normal, right?

The true beast inside

This illness is a beast. It's a roaring, never ending beast that will be the end of me. When the end does come, I hope I can rest. That's what I imagine when I think about death. I fantasize dying young because it means that I won't have to deal with it any longer.

Dying young means I need to leave some kind of mark on this world, though. This is my mark. This piece of writing will go around the school a few days after I'm dead and they'll see. They'll all understand the true beast inside me by then.

That seems impossible to provide.

What would happen if a person tried to feed a lion with peanuts? Not big ones, but the tiny salty things that humans eat. How much would it take to fill it up?

In my opinion, if somebody tries to feed a lion with peanuts, they'll never be able to provide enough for it. 

That's how I feel. My brain keeps asking me for more, but I've reached the limit that I can give.

Providing it is tough.

I can never fully give my brain what it wants. "Clap your hands, right now," it commands. So, I clap my hands in the middle of class while the teacher is talking, causing my teacher to stutter and a few people to look in my direction. "Slam your head against your shoulder," it commands a new request. So, I slam my head against my shoulder in front of the whole class because I sit up front. I sit up front because I have a low ability to focus, my brain is always running on something new. It's time to turn my brain off.

There never seems to be enough.

What I do is not enough. I will always be average, but different. I can't focus on one thing at a time and I lose interest in two seconds. It's not my fault, though. Blame my brain. That's why it's going to die today. It'll never be able to tell me what to do again. From here on out, my soul and God take over.

So I'll let the jerks come out of me,

As I write this letter, I'll let them out. They can be as free as they want. It's not as if anybody cares anyways. Maybe my Mom. She's always been there for me. She's always tried to understand.

Then, there's my Dad. He tried to be there for me and he understood the most because he has the same problems as me. He cracks his neck on command of his brain, too. But, he also does not understand. He doesn't think mental illnesses exist. "It's all in your head," he says. 

"Of course it's in my head!" I scream. "I'm doing all of this because of my stupid head and its stupid chemical!"

Until I'm completely drained physically.

I'm so tired. I can't take it anymore. It hurts too much. Mentally and physically, I'm tired. I don't want to fight this war anymore. My friends . . . they don't care either. They say they see past it, that they see me, but how can they when I don't even see me?

I'm tired of trying to figure out who the hell I am. I have decided that I am nobody. They'll all understand soon.

For my body, there is no rest

Ever have a hard time sleeping? Well, I have a hard time living. What is rest? I have no clue because there is no end to the voice inside my head. It keeps telling me that I'm a monster and I believe it. It keeps telling me that I'm stupid and can't do anything for myself and I believe it. It never leaves my head and it hurts so damn much. I don't want to hear it anymore.

And that is the never ending test.

I know I'm being tested by God, but why? He knows I'm going to fail his test. He knew my path the moment he created me. So why is he making me go through this? I can't pass his stupid test and he knows that. He knows that I'm coming to meet his son soon.

I say the test is over.

The test is stupid, stressful, and strenuous. I don't see anybody else taking the same one as me!

Everyone has their own tests to take. I don't think everybody passes. I think quite a few of us fail and that's okay. It's okay to fail. There's always a future. There's always something better. I'm going to try to find something better.

I will no longer be part of it's enclosure.

Right now, I'm stuck in these fours walls that my brain has created for me. The moment I try to open up, someone closes the doors for me because I'm different. I'm impulsive and can't control myself. "It's not my fault!" I cry out to them. They say they understand, but I know the truth. They're just saying they understand so that I don't feel different. Well, it's too late. I am different and there's no fixing me.

I'm done with this game.

Mom, I love you so much. Thank you for trying, but I can't take it anymore.

Dad, thank you for looking out for me and trying to give me a good life when there's nothing good to be found.

To my friends, thank you for trying to understand, but please, don't try anymore.

The person you once knew,

Taehyung.