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The Pathetic Story of my Pathetic Life
I have always been an odd girl. I never went with the crowd, just did things my own way. I was rejected a lot of the time. I was a freak. I didn't even have athletics to fall back on, I was too uncoordinated. Every move I made looked stupid. To top it off, I was ugly, overweight, and wore glasses.
I never used to care about how I looked or how others saw me, until middle school. I hated how all my previous friends had seperated out into cliques. I, being me, just didn't fit in anywhere. I was so caught up in trying to fit in, that I forgot who I was. But then, I'd never really been anyone, have I?
I was the smart kid that everyone wanted to cheat off of. Everyone thought I was stuck-up because I got good grades and all the teachers saw me as a "positive roll-model". Big whoop, so what? Soon, wild rumors started spreading about me. I never liked being in the spot light. It made me nervous to have all those judgemental faces staring at me. I hated being talked about, in both positive and negative ways.
Everyone said that I was too mature for middle school, and didn't like anyone because they were too "young" for me. That truely seemed to be the case. I was growing up while everyone else stayed exactly the same. It seemed like no one undersood me and the way I thought. I soon fell into a deep depression. I thought that I was worthless and no one cared about me. I was slowly becoming suicidal. But I wasn't crazy enough to kill myself... yet.
People called me "goth" and "emo". That was so not true! I thought slitting my wrists was gross and I got nauscious at the sight of blood. And I rarely wore black. But I felt like I was.
No one could get through to me. Not my parents, my teachers, the school councilors, not even my former friends. I cried almost every day. I took refuge in crying. I found it enlightening, it was my way out. Then I found writing and poetry. I wrote about characters who reflected me and the way I felt. I wrote about how sad and angry I was most of the time. In poetry, I soon gave up rhyming and let the words just pour out freely. I rarely showed my writing to anyone.
Writing was my self-help. I never talked to anyone about my problems. I just wrote. And wrote. And wrote. I had whole notebooks filled with my words. I read books almost as much as I wrote them. I joined the school newspaper and made friends who also loved to write. For the first time in my life, I felt what it was like to be a part of something. For once, I was truely happy. I wrote articals for almost every issue. Some of them got published and wonderful reveiws were written to the editor about them. I was proud of myself.
Today, when I look in the mirror, I don't see the depressed preteen I once was. I realize now that I am beautiful. I grew taller and thinner. I still am slightly chubby, but my height helps disguise my bulk. I still wear glasses, but my parents said I coould get contacts on a few years. I had obtained freckles on my previously blank, pale face. I still feel like no one understands me, but I know that that's what makes me even more interesting. I still cry sometimes, but it isn't constant anymore. I set aside a few minutes every day when I can cry and express my feelings. It no longer feels like a constant struggle. I realize now that I had gotten lost in thetransition from child to preteen, but I have finally found myself. I hope that this peice of writing has positively influenced others. I hope that who ever is reading this realizes that they are beautiful and wonderful. No one deserves to feel how I once did.
 · Fri May 18, 2007 @ 10:08pm · 3 Comments |
