My sense of direction, oh where do I start? I seem to have a fairly adequate sense of where I am if I’ve been there before. I mostly use landmarks to mark my location. If you dump me out in the middle of nowhere, I will freak out.
Just a random blurb about myself.
Life has been calm lately. There are still things that stress me out, but I am fairly content. Not happy, not excited, but content. Peaceful. Things seem to be heading in the right direction. I hope it will stay that way.
The more I trust someone, the more I find it hard to listen to them. I find myself talking more about me than them. In more simple terms, I am becoming conceited. It’s time for me to fade into the background once again and become like the wind, just a whisper.
Sorry to disappoint you even more. I’m only human and this is only school. Calm down.
I always hear that tears are a sign of weakness and that it shows you’re soft and easy to break. With tears comes the awkward sympathy and the people who try to cheer you up but you don’t want them to because you want to be alone but at the same time, you crave that sense of attention. Crying over something stupid is the worst thing you can do, but then again, don’t most of us cry over heartbreak?
Why should my crying be worth less than anyone else’s? My problem is just as real as anyone else’s. I shouldn’t be brought down just because I tried not to cry over a mistake I made.
I am weak and fragile. The only thing left to do is change that and make myself stronger. But there are times when crying is needed. It makes you human. It goes sympathy, no matter how much I despise that word. But that’s another topic for another day. I need to rest my eyes. The same eyes that cried over something stupid that made you all judge me.
Let’s call him O.
Today, there was a BBQ. I wasn’t feeling all that enthusiastic about it, being a loser and whatnot. So when I played with O’s instrument, no one, save for a couple of random friends, approached me. Yet when this girl, let’s call her A, plays with it, she attracts O’s attention and helps her when no one helped me.
Strike one.
Then, while I was about a good 6 feet away from them minding my own business and talking to someone because I was sick of their incessant chatter, O suddenly calls my friend and I to pick up trash. Trash! I wanted to scream in his face, “Pick up your own trash! It’s not even mine. I didn’t even eat anything that required a plate and a napkin! (One chip of Doritos does not count!) It’s their trash (the people around him), make them pick it up themselves.” I was so furious that I was on the verge of tears.
Strike two.
God, I just want to curse and scream. I want justice! I want karma! I want him to feel the same embarrassment I felt from picking up somebody else’s trash. Why should I pick up someone else’s things when they don’t pick up after themselves?
But I cleaned up like a good little child. A good patient girl who didn’t voice her reasons because she was too hurt to speak. I felt my throat constrict and my eyes burn up because of the incoming tears.
I tried to be positive. But as I saw myself in a reflection and noted my despicable outer appearance, that was strike three.
So I did what I do best: I left.
And ran, and ran, and ran till it hurt all the way back home. In a way, it soothed me. The pain in my abdomen. The whoosh of cold air. Reflecting on my feelings and the quietness. And in that moment, I forgot my pain and anger.
Days like these where I have to deal with a large group of people infuriate me. I’m not a very good person in actuality. People may percieve my outer appearance as kind and shy but inside, I am a giant monster ready to lash out.
