Post by G ♥ t h i k a l e a on Oct 1, 2009 17:11:17 GMT -5
Emo ftw.
---
It's P.E. The smell of sweat and adrenaline lingers in the air as we move from the gym to the covered play area in order to play Danish Rounders, but I don't notice as I'm much too occupied with my own inconsistent chattering; the human brain is amazing when you think about how many processes can go through it at once.
There were the depressing aspects of my life rushing through me as I tried to express each and every thought as quickly as possible to my second best friend, who was seeming to take it all in carefully. Distinctly my conscience tore at me to shut up and let the skinny freckled pale brunette go do her own thing, but I didn't want to, really. As guilty as I felt of blabbing on like an idiot to her and forcing her to listen, I also felt that need for attention: the one that had been plaguing me the last two days, on and off; I really just wanted someone to listen, listen, listen, take it all in, then smile and tell me I was okay, I was a good girl, that I wasn't going crazy, and that they liked me for who I was, not how ugly I was or fat or how I couldn't draw or write or play music as well as I wanted.
Like hell THAT was going to happen.
Still, it was a comfort to know that she was at least pretending on my behalf, trying to pick out the main idea of the stream of...there was no word for it, other than SHIT, that was coming out of my mouth. However, a girl shorter than both of us walked up and started a conversation with her, her dark brown curls bouncing against her pale skin. She laughed, smiling with those goddamn white teeth that I probably would never have, and adjusted her glasses, drawing attention to her arm, which was as skinny as the rest of her frame. She didn't seem to notice that her sudden appearance had halted me, nor would she have cared, I knew. No one really wanted to know, probably, about the D I was soon to recieve in my only AP(C) class, probably kicking me out - or about the latest fanfiction my best online friend had uploaded last night, or about how I despised every single aspect of myself.
No, no one cared about that, so I should not have held a grudge, yet when my friend visibly had a smile of relief, immediately ignoring me and breaking out into conversation with the other, a pang of jealousy hit me. I should've known better. No one wants to listen to a pessimist 24/7, yet for some reason I always have that hope - just that small, tiny hope - that there would be someone out there who did. Counselors don't help; it seems like they tape-record every word that comes out of your mouth and scan over it, nitpicking, convinced that something is wrong with you and that you are 'missing a piece'. I particularly never cared for it, and highly doubted that I would anytime soon.
A whistle rang, and it was time to go from field to kick. The other girl lingered behind, chatting with - was it possible? - other friends. It never failed to amaze me how others could jump right into a conversation, and no one would look at them like they had some sort of mental disorder.
I thought of a mini-comic that I'd read on a site that I daily view, and felt the need, once again, to share it with the tall, skinny brunette that had ran with me, rushing so that we could kick first. I expressed it as loud as I could, trying to throw...what was that word? Emotion? Into it.
"So, I saw this comic on D.A. a few months ago, and there was Sonic and Mario. Sonic slapped Mario on the back of the head, you know, like this---" And I demonstrated with her, causing her to flinch, "And Sonic was like, 'Hey! Dude! I'm so much better than you! I've got it all - looks, fangirls, super speed, superpowers, even Chaos Control -- what do you have that I don't?' And Mario replied promptly --"
But by now, with all my crazy hand motions had caused a few girls behind us to stare. Not stare in wonder, or curiosity, but with that face of...disgust. For a moment, it filled me with horror, reminding myself that my voice should be softer, I shouldn't even be talking about Mario and Sonic at school, and that I must remember to stay away from the popular crowd. Because that's what they were; popular. About three or four in all, two of them had straight, tidy blonde hair and the other two were brunette, and I really didn't want to be crossing their path. Last time I'd done it a few years ago, in fifth grade...A shudder.
Still, the comic. I had found it amusing, and didn't want it to go to waste just because of four stupid idiotic girls glaring at us, daring us to continue it. However, I still knew that I couldn't continue it with them listening, because the punchline was...somewhat inappropriate, and they were the type to spread my name around, making fun of me.
"Go away, I'm not talking to you," I shooed dramatically at them, my former grin now vanishing. Why didn't they go back to gossiping or whatever else they usually did? Why did they keep staring at me? Was I that ugly, fat, disgusting? Did I really look like a monster?
Or were they just trying to get at me?
"WhatEVER," one of them said, the corners of her mouth turning down in distaste, flipping her hair and the four started chattering again.
Just to make sure none of them heard me, I whispered in my friend's ear:
"And Mario promptly replied, 'I have a dick.'"
Immediately, my friend started blushing, covering her mouth with her hand; she probably didn't find it that funny, more...perverted, but she could probably judge I was amused because I was laughing loudly, finally letting out stress and pressure into that guffaw, but I was probably a little TOO loud, and the popular girls immediately stopped talking, and once again, glared at me. Not at her, oh no; she was a nice girl, polite, quiet, and sweet; no, they glared at me, as if just my breathing, talking, LIVING in the same air that they did destroyed them, deteriorated them just a little more each second.
"Oh, hilARIOUS," one of the brunettes interjected, obviously pissed that my laughter was loud enough to bother them, or maybe because she'd heard my whisper, but either way...
It hurt. I shouldn'tve cared, but I did. "Anyway," I continued, trying to ignore them, "Sonic was like, ... for a moment, and then he looked down to check, and was like, '...I hate you.'"
My friend and I smiled, laughing a little, but the whole thing was barely as amusing as it would've been should the girls not have interrupted earlier.
Sighing in resignation, I walked forward a little: soon it'd be our turn to kick the ball...
That was less than a week ago. I think I yelled at the girls; I don't really remember the exact change of words. However I do remember calling one of them by the wrong name (how am I supposed to know her name!?) and they defended her, going a little too far, perhaps? I had ran a little too slow and was out, and when we went from kick to field, my friend started ignoring me for the other girl again. Or, at least, it felt like that way to me, but then again I'm probably too sensitive for my own good.
That night I logged onto Deviantart, looking for someone who probably would understand, but she wasn't online. I desperately spammed the refresh button, biting my lip, not knowing what to do. She hadn't been online the day before that, and now I couldn't find her when I really wanted her. Deep resentment coursed through my veins, although I knew it was unreasonable. She was probably busy, and besides telling her everything would probably piss her off. The loneliness that I felt, I had brought upon myself, and therefore I deserved it. Luckily for me, however, she actually did come online and posted a journal. I read it and it described a...relationship with someone, one I do not wish to name, as justification for not being online; was it jealousy that sprang out as I read the words? Or just bitterness, I don't know, but even now I must try hard to not hold a grudge. Holding one over such useless topics will never get me anywhere in life.
Now it was time for something comforting; perhaps the MMORPG that I played, Ragnarok Online, would have some benefits to my mood at the moment. As I logged onto my character and began chatting with people, it was either that they didn't read their chat log or they just didn't want to talk to me. Being myself, I believed the more depressing option.
There was one guy, though, who kept calling me a 'gay homosexual', and that I was 'noisy', 'annoying', and 'talked too much'; once again another case where everyone is better off without me. What is the point in life if you can't even get friends on a game?
Perhaps it's hard for you, but retreating to my room was easy. No one ever looks for me; only my mom was home and she was yelling at me to 'get off the laptop, go do something productive with my life because everything I've done so far is useless, and to fix my fatness while I'm at it', except she said it in a different language, which probably made it hurt even more. Anyway, she was probably glad that I had finally decided to go upstairs into my so called 'bedroom': simply confinement with creamish walls, windows that had closed blinds upon them, clothes trashed messily on the floor, a touch-lamp in the corner on top of a discarded cardboard box next to a radio bought at a garage sale and an alarm clock that didn't work half of the time.
Oh, what did I forget? My 'bed': two mattresses on top of each other. No bedframe, simply two matresses solely for the purpose of trying to rest and forget that the world existed, forget pain and unhappiness forced upon you by only yourself, and remember only what you want to. It's possible to do so: remember only the happy points in your life, why you have a reason to keep going each day. It really is do-able. It just depends on your definition of 'happiness'.
Lazily jumping on the mattresses, I reached out for my sole consolation: a stuffed animal. Perhaps it's not fitting for an eighth grader; perhaps it's childish, like my parents say, or it's because I have low self esteem, like counselors agree, but I don't really care at the moment. Anything that makes me feel better or helps me not to wallow in self pity is heaven (is it strange that I use this world, although I am not religious? I do not know which word to use to express my feelings.), and softness, warmth, comfort are always the best things to go back to when you have nothing better to do in your life.
So it's 6:46 PM, and I'm trying not to think of the cold shower that will be inevitable tomorrow morning, or more disgusted faces that I will probably recieve tomorrow, that I haven't done my homework, practiced piano or violin, I'm neglecting my internet boyfriend, or the fact that nothing I do is successful, nothing I've ever done has been successful, and nothing that I ever will do will be successful.
Heck, the fact that I'm going to sleep early is the least of my worries.
---
It's P.E. The smell of sweat and adrenaline lingers in the air as we move from the gym to the covered play area in order to play Danish Rounders, but I don't notice as I'm much too occupied with my own inconsistent chattering; the human brain is amazing when you think about how many processes can go through it at once.
There were the depressing aspects of my life rushing through me as I tried to express each and every thought as quickly as possible to my second best friend, who was seeming to take it all in carefully. Distinctly my conscience tore at me to shut up and let the skinny freckled pale brunette go do her own thing, but I didn't want to, really. As guilty as I felt of blabbing on like an idiot to her and forcing her to listen, I also felt that need for attention: the one that had been plaguing me the last two days, on and off; I really just wanted someone to listen, listen, listen, take it all in, then smile and tell me I was okay, I was a good girl, that I wasn't going crazy, and that they liked me for who I was, not how ugly I was or fat or how I couldn't draw or write or play music as well as I wanted.
Like hell THAT was going to happen.
Still, it was a comfort to know that she was at least pretending on my behalf, trying to pick out the main idea of the stream of...there was no word for it, other than SHIT, that was coming out of my mouth. However, a girl shorter than both of us walked up and started a conversation with her, her dark brown curls bouncing against her pale skin. She laughed, smiling with those goddamn white teeth that I probably would never have, and adjusted her glasses, drawing attention to her arm, which was as skinny as the rest of her frame. She didn't seem to notice that her sudden appearance had halted me, nor would she have cared, I knew. No one really wanted to know, probably, about the D I was soon to recieve in my only AP(C) class, probably kicking me out - or about the latest fanfiction my best online friend had uploaded last night, or about how I despised every single aspect of myself.
No, no one cared about that, so I should not have held a grudge, yet when my friend visibly had a smile of relief, immediately ignoring me and breaking out into conversation with the other, a pang of jealousy hit me. I should've known better. No one wants to listen to a pessimist 24/7, yet for some reason I always have that hope - just that small, tiny hope - that there would be someone out there who did. Counselors don't help; it seems like they tape-record every word that comes out of your mouth and scan over it, nitpicking, convinced that something is wrong with you and that you are 'missing a piece'. I particularly never cared for it, and highly doubted that I would anytime soon.
A whistle rang, and it was time to go from field to kick. The other girl lingered behind, chatting with - was it possible? - other friends. It never failed to amaze me how others could jump right into a conversation, and no one would look at them like they had some sort of mental disorder.
I thought of a mini-comic that I'd read on a site that I daily view, and felt the need, once again, to share it with the tall, skinny brunette that had ran with me, rushing so that we could kick first. I expressed it as loud as I could, trying to throw...what was that word? Emotion? Into it.
"So, I saw this comic on D.A. a few months ago, and there was Sonic and Mario. Sonic slapped Mario on the back of the head, you know, like this---" And I demonstrated with her, causing her to flinch, "And Sonic was like, 'Hey! Dude! I'm so much better than you! I've got it all - looks, fangirls, super speed, superpowers, even Chaos Control -- what do you have that I don't?' And Mario replied promptly --"
But by now, with all my crazy hand motions had caused a few girls behind us to stare. Not stare in wonder, or curiosity, but with that face of...disgust. For a moment, it filled me with horror, reminding myself that my voice should be softer, I shouldn't even be talking about Mario and Sonic at school, and that I must remember to stay away from the popular crowd. Because that's what they were; popular. About three or four in all, two of them had straight, tidy blonde hair and the other two were brunette, and I really didn't want to be crossing their path. Last time I'd done it a few years ago, in fifth grade...A shudder.
Still, the comic. I had found it amusing, and didn't want it to go to waste just because of four stupid idiotic girls glaring at us, daring us to continue it. However, I still knew that I couldn't continue it with them listening, because the punchline was...somewhat inappropriate, and they were the type to spread my name around, making fun of me.
"Go away, I'm not talking to you," I shooed dramatically at them, my former grin now vanishing. Why didn't they go back to gossiping or whatever else they usually did? Why did they keep staring at me? Was I that ugly, fat, disgusting? Did I really look like a monster?
Or were they just trying to get at me?
"WhatEVER," one of them said, the corners of her mouth turning down in distaste, flipping her hair and the four started chattering again.
Just to make sure none of them heard me, I whispered in my friend's ear:
"And Mario promptly replied, 'I have a dick.'"
Immediately, my friend started blushing, covering her mouth with her hand; she probably didn't find it that funny, more...perverted, but she could probably judge I was amused because I was laughing loudly, finally letting out stress and pressure into that guffaw, but I was probably a little TOO loud, and the popular girls immediately stopped talking, and once again, glared at me. Not at her, oh no; she was a nice girl, polite, quiet, and sweet; no, they glared at me, as if just my breathing, talking, LIVING in the same air that they did destroyed them, deteriorated them just a little more each second.
"Oh, hilARIOUS," one of the brunettes interjected, obviously pissed that my laughter was loud enough to bother them, or maybe because she'd heard my whisper, but either way...
It hurt. I shouldn'tve cared, but I did. "Anyway," I continued, trying to ignore them, "Sonic was like, ... for a moment, and then he looked down to check, and was like, '...I hate you.'"
My friend and I smiled, laughing a little, but the whole thing was barely as amusing as it would've been should the girls not have interrupted earlier.
Sighing in resignation, I walked forward a little: soon it'd be our turn to kick the ball...
That was less than a week ago. I think I yelled at the girls; I don't really remember the exact change of words. However I do remember calling one of them by the wrong name (how am I supposed to know her name!?) and they defended her, going a little too far, perhaps? I had ran a little too slow and was out, and when we went from kick to field, my friend started ignoring me for the other girl again. Or, at least, it felt like that way to me, but then again I'm probably too sensitive for my own good.
That night I logged onto Deviantart, looking for someone who probably would understand, but she wasn't online. I desperately spammed the refresh button, biting my lip, not knowing what to do. She hadn't been online the day before that, and now I couldn't find her when I really wanted her. Deep resentment coursed through my veins, although I knew it was unreasonable. She was probably busy, and besides telling her everything would probably piss her off. The loneliness that I felt, I had brought upon myself, and therefore I deserved it. Luckily for me, however, she actually did come online and posted a journal. I read it and it described a...relationship with someone, one I do not wish to name, as justification for not being online; was it jealousy that sprang out as I read the words? Or just bitterness, I don't know, but even now I must try hard to not hold a grudge. Holding one over such useless topics will never get me anywhere in life.
Now it was time for something comforting; perhaps the MMORPG that I played, Ragnarok Online, would have some benefits to my mood at the moment. As I logged onto my character and began chatting with people, it was either that they didn't read their chat log or they just didn't want to talk to me. Being myself, I believed the more depressing option.
There was one guy, though, who kept calling me a 'gay homosexual', and that I was 'noisy', 'annoying', and 'talked too much'; once again another case where everyone is better off without me. What is the point in life if you can't even get friends on a game?
Perhaps it's hard for you, but retreating to my room was easy. No one ever looks for me; only my mom was home and she was yelling at me to 'get off the laptop, go do something productive with my life because everything I've done so far is useless, and to fix my fatness while I'm at it', except she said it in a different language, which probably made it hurt even more. Anyway, she was probably glad that I had finally decided to go upstairs into my so called 'bedroom': simply confinement with creamish walls, windows that had closed blinds upon them, clothes trashed messily on the floor, a touch-lamp in the corner on top of a discarded cardboard box next to a radio bought at a garage sale and an alarm clock that didn't work half of the time.
Oh, what did I forget? My 'bed': two mattresses on top of each other. No bedframe, simply two matresses solely for the purpose of trying to rest and forget that the world existed, forget pain and unhappiness forced upon you by only yourself, and remember only what you want to. It's possible to do so: remember only the happy points in your life, why you have a reason to keep going each day. It really is do-able. It just depends on your definition of 'happiness'.
Lazily jumping on the mattresses, I reached out for my sole consolation: a stuffed animal. Perhaps it's not fitting for an eighth grader; perhaps it's childish, like my parents say, or it's because I have low self esteem, like counselors agree, but I don't really care at the moment. Anything that makes me feel better or helps me not to wallow in self pity is heaven (is it strange that I use this world, although I am not religious? I do not know which word to use to express my feelings.), and softness, warmth, comfort are always the best things to go back to when you have nothing better to do in your life.
So it's 6:46 PM, and I'm trying not to think of the cold shower that will be inevitable tomorrow morning, or more disgusted faces that I will probably recieve tomorrow, that I haven't done my homework, practiced piano or violin, I'm neglecting my internet boyfriend, or the fact that nothing I do is successful, nothing I've ever done has been successful, and nothing that I ever will do will be successful.
Heck, the fact that I'm going to sleep early is the least of my worries.
