It's easy for people to talk about their days, huh? Its even easier to talk, when the days suck. You can ramble, whine and rant. However when you're happy, you just cannot bring yourself to write about it because people are going to look at you in a strange way.
What if I write that I have a crush on someone? And it actually is a HUGE thing for me? Something about my heart that's paranoid will whisper, "GEE, MANDY IS SO DAMN conceited. Stop being so happy; people are having bad times, okay?"
It's easier to write when you're feeling fucked up because you know you're not alone. People get screwed up all the time and they can relate to that. But feeling happy... somewhat seems uncommon. Misery loves company. Happiness, however, is better off kept private.
No one is interested in knowing what is fun life to me. Heck, what's fun to me, is nothing fun to you. What's an accomplishment to me, is nothing to you. Everybody else's lives seem a lot better than mine. You can afford to talk about love, friendships... your social circle is big and you care to write about them.
My life's an open sea. I am allowed to go anywhere and everywhere, but because I am timid, because I am used to be so lonely and used to be bullied and be pushed around, I have this perception that I am not accepted anywhere. It's hard when you grow up being the bullied child and even now, you still are. Generally, people don't understand that I am different.
They grow up with so much love surrounding them. For those without parents, they can assume that if they have parents, they would love them. So at least they feel like they have lost something good. Lost it, different from not receiving love. For those with parents, they mostly will be loved. But not when you have a family, a set of parents, and still you still feel ignored and not cared about.
The only time when they even know I exist would be those times when I fall sick or cry in front of their faces. Yesterday I came back home from school, and my mom didn't know about it and was cursing about how dare I did not come back home. I was like, sleeping in my room. She thought I was my brother.
I am a nobody to everyone. My mates in school treat me like an alien. They stare at me, like they're crushing me with their eyes. When I'm presenting something, they roll their eyes. When I'm trying to speak, they make funny noises to cover up my voice. It's just depressing to go to school and have to face the same thing since I was a kid. Getting pushed around and taken advantage of.
And actually having no one to talk about it eats me up inside. I have all these bitterness. I hate the world for that. I blame myself for that. I have no idea what makes people be so mean to me, since I am not the most detestable person on earth. I have not done anything that's hurtful to others, and maybe because of that, people view me as the weak person, the one that can be pushed around.
I'm scared. What if this will go on forever?
11:51 p.m. - 2004-07-18
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