Have you ever had that feeling of hatred just eating you? That feeling that just makes you want to tear your mind out of your skull so you stop thinking about it? About how much you fail at life. How much you disappoint your parents because your too stupid to remember what you learned last class. How often you fail tests. No matter how hard you try, you still fail. Every single time. How you have to take the easy classes because your retarded and you simply can’t learn as fast as you want to. I’ve always excelled at failing. The hatred I’m talking about is self-hatred. It’s something that eats me more here, in Oman, than anywhere else.
It started senior year and is starting to manifest itself in my brain more often. The thoughts of my failures have started to surface again. My body is starting to shake as I type this thing out. Daydreaming of torturing myself, making myself bleed, simply because I deserve it. I don’t tell anyone, not even my parents. No one knows what goes through my mind every day. Sure, you put on a brave face and make it through the day. Some people are better at acting than others. Not stage acting, life acting (as I like to call it). Every time I walk into this school, I already feel like the stupidest person. Everyone in my classes understands what’s going on but I sit there pretending like I do. Only the ridiculously easy classes I understand and even those, I’m slow. Most simply don’t care. I say I don’t care when I really do. Afraid of what people might think when they realize just how retarded I actually am.
I am daydreaming again. Its night time. I’m lying in my bed imagining how I would act if my pride would allow it. If my self-preservation wasn’t as strong as it was. I imagine myself clawing at my arm during physics class. Letting the blood flow out of my arm. Seeing it drain out of my body. The brilliant ruby red color of fresh blood, the delightful smell of iron. Ecstasy. My inward mental breakdown finally reaching its breaking point. At war with my feelings. Internal. Everything for me has always been internal. I’ve always been the outcast, sitting with my outcast friends. At my old school I found my place with one person. Everyone else thought I was too strange, too otherworldly. No one talked to me. I could feel them staring, whispering. I try to fit in someplace. I fit with the drama geeks. They were relatively accepting of me and it’s where I’ve stayed ever since. With the drama people. But its different here. People aren’t as… accepting. I feel like every time I open my mouth I say something that offends people. But I’m writing this because I can’t sleep. Because I’m too busy wallowing in my self-pity to sleep. I just needed to write it down. Put it somewhere. Anywhere. Deep in my pocket I suppose. I don’t want to torture anyone with my miserable sob story so I’ll save you the time and shut up, like I always do in the end.
It started senior year and is starting to manifest itself in my brain more often. The thoughts of my failures have started to surface again. My body is starting to shake as I type this thing out. Daydreaming of torturing myself, making myself bleed, simply because I deserve it. I don’t tell anyone, not even my parents. No one knows what goes through my mind every day. Sure, you put on a brave face and make it through the day. Some people are better at acting than others. Not stage acting, life acting (as I like to call it). Every time I walk into this school, I already feel like the stupidest person. Everyone in my classes understands what’s going on but I sit there pretending like I do. Only the ridiculously easy classes I understand and even those, I’m slow. Most simply don’t care. I say I don’t care when I really do. Afraid of what people might think when they realize just how retarded I actually am.
I am daydreaming again. Its night time. I’m lying in my bed imagining how I would act if my pride would allow it. If my self-preservation wasn’t as strong as it was. I imagine myself clawing at my arm during physics class. Letting the blood flow out of my arm. Seeing it drain out of my body. The brilliant ruby red color of fresh blood, the delightful smell of iron. Ecstasy. My inward mental breakdown finally reaching its breaking point. At war with my feelings. Internal. Everything for me has always been internal. I’ve always been the outcast, sitting with my outcast friends. At my old school I found my place with one person. Everyone else thought I was too strange, too otherworldly. No one talked to me. I could feel them staring, whispering. I try to fit in someplace. I fit with the drama geeks. They were relatively accepting of me and it’s where I’ve stayed ever since. With the drama people. But its different here. People aren’t as… accepting. I feel like every time I open my mouth I say something that offends people. But I’m writing this because I can’t sleep. Because I’m too busy wallowing in my self-pity to sleep. I just needed to write it down. Put it somewhere. Anywhere. Deep in my pocket I suppose. I don’t want to torture anyone with my miserable sob story so I’ll save you the time and shut up, like I always do in the end.