30 Days of Truth: Day 8
I AM SO SORRY
that it's been so long since the last one!
Someone who has made your life hell, or made you feel like shit
Now, I have thought of this one long and hard, as you can probably see from the time it has taken me to post this thing. I don’t want to single out a single person and guilt-trip them for making my life hell. That would just be cruel and I, at least to an extent, am not a cruel kind of person. So instead this goes out to the people who have made my life hell, or treated me like shit, or made me feel like I’m a fucked up freak who doesn’t belong, or who have just plain and simple broke my heart.
So to name a few, I’ll start with school curators and psychologists. Oh boy, have I a bone to pick with you. You know, there is a reason why the school system is divided in pieces more or less according to the development stages of the students. So when I come and talk to you at fourteen, I do not appreciate being spoken to like I am seven. I do not appreciate having to draw trees with stars whose sizes are in relation to the sizes of the problems I have, or having to play with teddybears and give them names or choose silly photographs to represent members of my family. It would also be nice if you didn’t blame my troubles on my, as you put it, over-the-top perfectionism and raging inability to be responsible about my education when the real problem was in my family situation and the fact that I was being torn into tiny little pieces and living a suitcase life where I switched homes every week et cetera. And might I add, I still made top grades and was one of the best in my year. So to all you eight or nine school psychologists and to that one bitchy curator who sucked at her job, fuck you. Fuck all of you. I never needed you, I never wanted you, but it was the school’s obligation to forward me to assholes like you.
I have had friends run away or just fade away intentionally, unintentionally or just because of everything that was going on. There are many friendships that are now nonexistent due to the mass fuck-up of the past five years. There are many that could be revived but are not being revived due to my fear of letting people in, or just picking up the phone to call someone. I’ve always found refuge in words but it’s a cold fact that you cannot re-build a friendship through written text. I haven’t had the power in me to change into something more social and trusting and open. I miss the friends I used to have. I miss them very badly. I miss the friends I have now because it has become a habit of mine to clam up and stop trying. I don’t know why. I want to try, I want to have fun and laugh and do meaningless things that at the same time mean so much because they make me happier. But at the same time I am so fucking scared of letting someone too close or letting someone see or experience too much for their own stamina of personal problems. So many people have given up on me; I just assume others will too.
I have been bullied in the classic way that kids bully other kids: because they are smarter and nerdy. When I was in 7th grade people called me a living computer. Looking back now I should have just taken it all as a goddamn compliment. But I didn’t at the time. At the time it hurt like hell to get that in return for working my ass off to get great grades. So, having learned from that, I kept things to myself that I could have been bullied about even worse than how I had been bullied earlier. I didn’t come out until after high school because everyone there, mostly guys (guys who had bullied me before) were very narrow-minded and wanted to kill every gay person off the planet. But you know, it still felt like bullying, hearing all those mean and disgusting things they would say, even though they weren’t precisely pointed at me but were still pointed at something I was. I tried not to let myself get upset over it but naturally I was. It didn’t lead to good things. It left deep marks in me that drove me to trouble, self-inflicted but at the same time something that made me feel mistreated.
And of course, needless to say, my parents belong to the list of people who have wronged me. I’ve spoken about it too much anyway so I won’t get into it here, it is a vast subject with many sub-categories. But I can say that nobody has ever hurt me more or made my life hell. At the same time, though, almost nobody has ever loved me as much.