I have been asked before whether I hate everyone. I suppose
it’s because of things like this… where I let some of my anger vent. I hate this anger. The anger that I have
to vent must make people think I’m unstable. I am. I’ll be honest, because it’s not like people don’t
see it. I’m unstable in that if people harass me, I WILL snap. In 6th grade, I stabbed a certain girl in
the neck with a fuckin pencil. There, my dirty secret’s out. That single event is the reason I’m so fucked up
now. That scared the holy shit out of me. The thought that everyone else had better control of their emotions, that I could
snap and hurt someone. It really really scared me. You would be interested to note that I am only good friends with maybe
2 people I went to elementary school with. That’s because of that event. Because of that event, I think I have a sub-reputation
of being extremely unstable.
Thing is, that’s another pet peeve.
They think I’m unstable, so they shun me. Guess what douche bags? THAT MAKES ME UNSTABLE!! People are so FUCKING stupid.
Oh, he’s flipped out and hurt people before, let’s harass him and make him an outcast. I very well could have
become Columbine mark 3. That scares me even more. There were times in junior high that I wished I could kill everyone who
harassed me. That list was ridiculously long. It was probably a good half of the school. My own name was on my kill list.
My peers, who were supposed to give people a chance, ridiculed me. They used me. I was the “Homework Help Nerd”.
You’d be nice to me while I helped you pass your fucking exams, then you’d slam me back into my emptiness.
I walked the halls wishing I could kill
the people I passed. I fucked my grades to hurt my parents, the only people I could hurt. In my mind I disassembled the people
ridiculing me into their base components. The cruelty brought on by unwillingness to understand, it still remains. People
are cruel to me on a daily basis. Nobody understands that I wrestle with demons, that I wrestle with the knowledge that I
cannot be what I wish I were. I wish, in all my waking thoughts, that I had a social life. I don’t do ANYTHING without
thinking it could help my social life. Nothing can. Guess what? I’m fucking autistic, but not bad enough to admit
that nobody will ever care about me. I can’t give people what they want because nobody will tell me.
I can’t say what anyone wants to
hear. If I were to talk about someone to their face, I’d say the wrong thing. So, I talk about myself. I know I can’t
say the wrong thing about me. It’s a safe topic. Anything else is playing roulette with a fully loaded gun. Sometimes,
many times, I wish I could do that. I regularly have thoughts of suicide. I’ve tried before. The thought that I couldn’t
even manage to kill myself, it’s saddening.
I wish that I knew what people wanted,
so that I could try to be that. It would make things so much easier, but it can’t happen. 90% of human interactions
happen sub-vocally, and I don’t catch them. But now that you read this, you read me wrote bare, would you still be
around me? Knowing now one of the darkest episodes of my tortured past, would you still put up with me? This is why I
heavily debated posting this. By rights, everyone who reads this should be running. By rights, I should be exactly where the
“popular” bitches placed me. I have my few friends right now because they were kind enough to put me out of the
prison I was in.
Back to my history. I will say now that
junior high was hell. Words cannot describe how horrible every minute of it was. I was ridiculed, backstabbed, shunned and
cast away every minute. I think I only had 2 to 6 friends in junior high, max. I still want to kill Phillip Oppen for what
he did to me. I want to see his lifeless corpse, burning preferably, fall off some tall cliff and dash on the rocks below.
Ok, enough of one of my fantasies. That is a small measure of the rage I hold for many individuals who tormented me during
junior high. I can speak to most of them, but he is beyond any remorse. I don’t think there are many people who can
say they experienced a small measure of what I was inflicted with. Two names that come to mind are Jesse Snyder and Peter
Nelson-King. Out of all the people in the school, only they had it worse.
And that is where I truly betrayed myself.
I was one of the people who tormented Jesse Snyder, even though he has to this day never actually done anything to me. In
that I am just like those I hate so. It’s damaging. I don’t speak to Jesse even now, because I fear any association
with him will kill the scraps of reputation I have. That is my shame. I live in shame for being at the level of those who
tormented me.
I still wonder why they don’t harass
me openly any more. Though, I am happy it is so, for I would surely be dead now if they hadn’t internalized their cruelty.
In the end, I am happy I am alive. I am happy that I can enrich others. That is my sole reason for living. Thankfully you,
like the few others who can stand to be near me, give me opportunities to enrich their lives.
My
life only started recovery from junior high probably last year. Sophomore year was just a small extension of the torture that
was junior high, nowhere near the scale however. Drama, and specifically Rob Schmitt, saved my life. I credit him. He somewhat
adopted me, and got me into drama and the clique. If I hadn’t taken tech theatre, I’d be dead now. It’s
very scary how close I walk the line.
Anthony is another guiding reason I am
alive at this time. I don't really know how I came to be friends with him, and in the end I don’t care. Relevant is
that he gave me someone to which I could bounce my concepts off. He was willing to listen. I consider him my best friend.
Lindsey made my life wonderful from junior
year on. PE was the bright point of my day, as I was beginning to awake to the fact that my grades were fatal for my continuing
education. She makes me laugh, and also she shares so many things with me. Oddly enough, her older brother has the same disability
as my older sister (and me), and my sister actually took him to a dance once. Weird, no? I love Lindsey like I love few other
people, and it pains me so to watch her inflict herself with her boyfriend. She truly is far far too good for him, but…
it’s not my, or anyone else’s choice. If she wants to be with the fucker, it’s not my position to tell her
not to. All I can do is tell her my view of him and watch him hurt her. I hear stories of it from all sorts of people.
If I were to snap, I’d make sure
to blow his nuts off. Not kill him, because she thinks she loves him, and she’d hate me and shit on my grave or something…
just ensure he can’t do the worst thing he could do to her. That’s my thing. My thing is defending the people
willing to be close to me. If someone I consider a friend were to be hurt, a mark is on the person that caused pain. She doesn’t
want me to defend her from him, but she needs defense. When he eventually hurts her beyond that which she can silently endure,
I will fucking kill him. I swear to God, he does anything that she can’t stomach and he better get witness protection,
because I’ll kill his sorry abusive ass before he can even say “bitch deserved it”. He is very high on my
hit list.
Emilie… what can I say that I have
not already said? She’s not over her ex. He is over her, for whatever reason. He’s dating another girl, and she
hates the other girl with a burning passion. She is smart enough to admit it’s not rational. I just wish I could fix
the situation, because I hate watching things like that so close to me. I do like the other girl, and I act frequently to
make sure that I am not party to any altercations between the two of them. Makes drama iffy because the girl (Sandi) is one
of the most competent junior techs, and Emilie is one of the most competent actor-techs. It’s lame, because I can’t
have the best team… but sometimes, one can’t have everything. I know that more then most.
Spencer, party to the only time I snapped
during all of junior high. I won’t go into details, but thankfully I failed at what my anger intended, because I would
have killed myself on the spot had I been more skilled. I cannot say more then that. I love Spencer, because he forgave me
for something unforgivable. I would walk barefoot through a blizzard for any of the people I list by name here, but I would
cut off a limb for Spencer. By all rights he should hate me for what I nearly did, but he doesn’t. That’s a massively
rare quality in humans.
Tom… Tom was one of my few friends
during junior high. For that, I am eternally grateful. I still laugh thinking of the crazy 4th of July party. Tom
is also another of these genuinely nice people I like to surround myself with. He’s self-depreciating, and willing to
make fun of himself. The Oompa-Loompa costume is to date the second best costume I’ve ever seen.
Best costume goes to another really close
friend, Tim. Tim and I have had some hilariously funny good times, and he taught me much of what I know about drama and construction.
Tim is possibly the only friend I have who is far crazier then I am. Makes things fun, it always does…
I’m not sure whether I love or hate
Kathryn. She verbalizes the most inside jokes of all my friends combined, and indirectly makes me feel left out. I am in that
clique. On the other hand, she can be genuinely frank with me on occasion. Almost nobody else can. I just wish it happened
more often, because I learn SO much when people are frank with me.
Nick. Nick has known me the longest of
anyone on this list, because I don’t feel like describing JP. Nick is very intelligent, but sometimes I’m not
sure if he’s gay or just fucked up. He says and does things nobody else I know would. On the other hand, he’s
probably the closest mentally to me. I have stated before we have common wavelengths, and it’s damn true.
The emotions wracking me as I write this
are making me shake. I am so emotional when I let it out, that I make sure to bottle it 24/7. Maybe it makes me seem cold.
I guess in retrospect that’s a good thing. I haven’t been able to let out my loving emotion before, so I guess
people think I’m nothing but anger. I’m not, though… I would die for my close friends. I really seriously
would. I’m not sure whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing.
Here I sit in senior year, watching time
slip away. I wish I was at the position I am now in sophomore year, but I can’t change the past. If only I had more
time. However, that’s not going to happen. That’s part of the reason I’m doing this, I’m giving people
so much dirt on me. My time to be what I want with whom I want is rapidly vanishing. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll
raise hell to stay in touch with my close friends, but there are some things that only really work face to face.
----
I wonder who will read this. If you do,
tell me. I plan on posting this onto my tripod mini-website, and posting LJ and MySpace notes about it. We’ll see who
cares enough to know the real me. More then that, I wonder whose view of me may change knowing the history of me.
