A More Personal Approach

Something About Me

I did something I probably shouldn't have tonight and God knows I should regret it but I don't. I had stopped cutting for a solid month but I picked up the blade again tonight. It's not that I do or don't regret what I did. It's more of an acceptance that it's going to happen again.

Nevertheless it got me thinking to when all this pain started. I think a year ago I would have said immediately, 'seventh grade, when I ruined my birthday party" or "sixth grade when my best friend started telling me BS." Although those are big markers for when I started to realize I was in pain, the truth was I was in pain since I was born.

Growing up, I had a lot of time to think. My parents were always working and I didn't really have friends. People would play with me and move on the next day and seeing as I had difficulty making friends, I was often alone. I had nothing and yet got attached so quickly. 

I don't think I realized how odd I was until I was much older. Being alone does that to you. You have nothing to compare yourself to. In some ways that was a blessing a curse but I'll explain later.

When I was around six or seven years old I had some very interesting thoughts. I would wonder if what each person saw was different. If I saw someone with black hair, does someone else see the same person with blonde hair? I had thoughts like that. I thought of my future and holding on to friendships. For a little while I was obsessed with the idea of revenge. And I thought everyone else had such thoughts.

You get the point, I was a bit of an oddball. My friends unknowingly would use me because of this. I was easy to manipulate and I was lonely. What wouldn't I have done to flatter my friends? Loyalty was my number one priority no matter what they did to me. And when I got angry enough to leave, they would come begging for me to come back. I was stuck in that loop of thinking they were good or that they didn't mean what they did. And when they begged for my return I would think of myself as important to them. 

Now that I'm thinking back on it, it seems as if I was trying to find myself too early. They say teenagers are a handful and going through phases (I don't believe in phases, I only believe in personal struggle and growth. However, for the sake of imagination, you know what I mean). Imagine that but in an elementary school student. Yes, I was quite the handful.

But looking back at how lost I was those years, and how naive I was to just swallow the pain like a pill, it hurts me. It hurts to know that before I knew what manipulation meant, I was being used by people I would give my life to.

I may have finally acknowledged the pain in seventh grade but it was always there. It was basically idiot plot. Things would have turned out so different if I weren't so young and stupid. Even now I feel like everyone knows something I don't. The only way I can counter that feeling is believing I, too, know something they don't. The difference is my secret is not desirable to them. No one cares to know the suffering that people with mental illness goes through. No one wants inside knowledge on how messed up this world is.

To this day, I am very different. My dad says I am very extreme in the things I believe in. For example, I have strict moral rules that I try to live by. If ever someone were shooting down an area, I believe it right to sacrifice myself for others. Although part of that is me not putting value on my life, I do believe that everyone has the right to live. I don't like playing hero or a saint. I don't care if I know the person or hate the person I'm saving; I truly believe everyone's life should be valued. As you can see, I could probably go on forever on this topic.

It's not easy talking to me because I have such strong beliefs. And the thing is, nobody sides with me. It's frustrating and infuriating for a straight A student who usually gets her way to be told she is wrong. Sure, being passionate about everything has made me a favorite among English teachers. But that's just because I never have a shortage of things to write about. In real life nobody likes this part of me. I am labeled an extremist for good and thus I am bad. I am different so I am bad. Society does not like different.

The thing that plagues me most when I look back at every event in my life, was my utter loneliness. People may surround me physically or support my choices emotionally but I am still alone. My thoughts are not shared by others.My romanticized ideas on how a society should act are shunned. The choices I make, make me an outsider.

I don't want to come off as ungrateful. I have good friends and family despite the fair share of issues I have had with them. I think the best way I can explain my pain would be to quote my friend. She had texted me during one of my breakdowns saying, 'I'm sorry I cannot help you in the way you want me to.' She had said what I wanted to say all along. Anyone can help me but few will ever share my tragedies enough to understand them fully. Few will ever understand my perspectives and ultimately agree with them.

Maybe someone out there is like me. I mean, our population is seven billion and rising. It's just that the waiting slowly drives you insane. And try as I might to not be selfish, I want to find someone exactly like me. I want someone who has been through hell and came back. I want someone who is just as extreme and angry at how horrid humanity is. In a sense, I might as well want another me.

If I thought I was some wise person growing up, then this flaw here would be my childish side. I cannot seem to wake up. More rather I just don't want to wake up and see the truth. I just like holding on and waiting for someone to be angry with me. I don't want to go out and make changes; I just want to point out all the wrongs. It's as if some part of me is saying that I found all the wrongs no one else wants to acknowledge so the responsibility of fixing it shouldn't be mine.

Well, here's my little life story. Judge it as much as you please. I think I expected judgement from the moment I started writing this and truthfully, I'm not scared of it. I guess some pains no longer hurt while others only intensify.

What hurts me today is not what society does but rather what it's not doing. I don't care if they judge me, I'm angry because the concept of judging others exists.

I think this was more of a raw chapter with me just ranting but it was very much therapeutic. And so we come to another close. I hope you enjoyed this chapter.

xoxo,

~fatsotheawesome🕊