My God, I'm Pathetic. But at Least I Make You Feel Better About Yourself.

I find it extremely pathetic that I'm writing a response to my own prompt when I posted it not very long ago and I said I wasn't going to be on and this will be my third post in a row and I'm telling you about everything online.  On the internet.  Where people can see what I've written.  But I've remembered something that I discovered a while ago:  reading about other people really makes you feel better about yourself.  That's why people pick on other people.  That's kind of the purpose of this blog.  We can sit  here, whine about how pathetic and depressed we are sometimes and read about other people and be able to judge them and just generally breathe a sigh of relief that you're not the only one out there who is like this, who feels like this, bleh, blah, bleh, bleh, blah blah bleh blah blah bleh.  Bloo blah blah.  Blah.  Bleh. Bloo bleh.  Bah.

So, you can feel a little better about yourself.  I guess I'm up to sharing this.  I mean, I wish I could say it to SOMEBODY.  So you will suffice. It's not my life story, but it's the part I'm most bitter about today.  I guess now you'll find out why.

So, one day, I was born.  :)  Haha, sorry, I had to say that.  

First of all, know that I'm a very bitter person.  I do, admittedly, hate people for what they've done to me.  I know it's wrong, but I have to.  

 I moved schools after kindergarten, so I had to make all new friends.  And, unfortunately I chose just about the worst person I could ever be friends with.  When all I got was awful accusations and other reactions from the other kids, I really needed someone to reach out to.  And I tried, I did.  I tried so hard that I tricked myself into thinking that the person I chose was my actual friend.  I ignored so much, I just let it go, because it was what I needed and being blind to the truth was what I thought would help me.  Somehow, no matter how convinced I would be that I was going to accept the truth and move on, somehow I would get dragged back in.  I made friends with the backstabbing flake.  For an entire 9 years I disregarded the fact that she treated me like a dirty hand towel.  No, she treated me like used toilet paper.  And the sad thing is that for the longest time, I didn't even know that what she was doing was wrong.  I just thought it was okay.  I smiled anyway when I was completely abandoned when someone better was around.  Even with my other friends, I didn't stand a chance.  If she came up when I was with other people, she would walk up and hug that person and start talking to them, and before I knew it I was just some unnamed nobody standing next to them.  I had been her friend for 7 years. Well, I was her best friend, but, of course, she only said that when we were alone.  Never in front of other people.  I eventually knew that even though we would carpool to school together, we would talk until we saw her friends, and I would just keep walking while she would go over and talk to them without a word to me.  

I treat used gum better than she treated me.

I was inferior.  I was just some other person that she could use.  It's been almost a year since we've spoken [Two words from me, no words from her].  I've known her for 11 years.  I told her happy birthday, even though I could barely stomach the words, and she looked me in the eye and I could tell that I meant nothing to her.  I could barely hold back my tears as she looked at my face like she was searching for my name, but she didn't know me.  She didn't see me.  She didn't care, and she never did.  And the world doesn't care, and it never did.  We're here alone, and we always will be.

I kept everything she ever gave me as a present.  She threw away things I've given her right in front of my face without seeming like a single thing was wrong.  I remember her birthday, I still have her home phone number memorized, and I still don't have a best friend like I did 11 years ago.  It never changed.  I've never had a best friend.  Never, ever.

I can't believe she used me.  And it's all my fault.  I hate that.  Everything that ever goes wrong is my fault.  I can never change that fact, ever.

Every year for her birthday I would spend so much time getting her a present that I knew she would like.  Every year I made her a birthday cake, which she never let me have a piece of.  Every year I would try and make her birthday special, even if it was clear that she didn't care about me and didn't want me there.  She always knew that she didn't need me, and she was right.  

I recall myself counting the end of our "friendship" as my birthday, two years ago.  She'd be in Texas, and I'd get a postcard from her and her family.  I was ecstatic.  I didn't need a present.  Having a friend, or so I thought, was a present enough.  But that day, I walked down to the mailbox and nothing came.  They always sent the postcard a week early, but I had figured that it was just late.  Still, nothing.  I settled back into my room, and I stared at the phone.  She was going to call and tell me happy birthday.  She was going to say why the postcard wasn't there, or to see if I got it, just in case.  It probably just got lost in the mail.  I waited all day by that phone, and nobody called.  And since then, nobody has ever called, sent messages or mail to me on my birthday.  Nothing.  I don't need a present.  I don't need a card.  I'd like a call.  I'd like you to say that you're sorry you couldn't be here.  Or maybe that you're sorry for what you did 6 weeks ago.  That was the last time we talked.

Our parents went out to eat like they always did.  I guess that our parents are better friends than we ever were.  I guess you're more attached to the dirt on the bottom of your shoe than you are to me.  I came over, and I didn't see you.  I watched over your siblings.  They always liked me better than you did.  All that night, I waited for you to come out.  They said you were in your room, but you were probably sleeping.  That night, after waiting two hours for you I realized I was the babysitter that night.  You came out with another friend, and you were laughing with her.  You walked right by me, and you almost ran straight into me, but I moved out of the way.  I automatically said, "I'm sorry."  You didn't say a word, bat an eyelash, or look at me.  I was right there, and you didn't say a word to me.  You hadn't seen me in 3 weeks.  And at that point, I told your siblings I was going to the restroom.  I stayed in there the rest of the night and cried.  I was there, I was there, and you didn't see me.  You didn't care.  I am nothing, I have always been nothing, and I will not ever in your entire life mean a thing to you.

You never called me.  You never said goodbye.  You never said that you were sorry.  But I did.  I always did.

The next year, we didn't talk.  On your birthday, you got a cake.  Just like I used to do.  You had gifts, you had friends all around you.  And then I finally knew that you didn't need me, and you never did.  That's why you didn't care.  After removing me from your life, everything was exactly the same.  Nothing had moved an inch.  I hate that.  Your life was exactly the same, and suddenly I had realized that 11 years of my life had just been wasted, and I will never be able to get them back.  I will never be able to relive them.  I will be missing 11 years, and there will be a giant empty space in my life, in my heart, and in me.  I will always be waiting to get those 11 years of my life back because I just can't believe that it's over, and I've got nothing.  

Well, the only thing I've got that you don't is the gifts we've given.  Because I keep them in my box, where I also keep every letter I've ever gotten from anybody, and you've thrown yours away.  You threw me away.  Like a piece of old gum that's beginning to disintegrate into a runny, plastic-like mess because you chewed it too long.

You used me too long.  Now I'm a mess.  Throw me away.  Replace me so it's like it was 11 years ago.  Sometimes gum gets gross and you need to get a new piece.  I just never knew that friends were like that, too.

Now, I can never trust people no matter how much I want to.  I always think it's some huge trick to terrorize me or make fun of me.  I can never see other people as just being nice.  I try so, so hard, but a part of me always yanks my heart up my throat with a string and makes me stop.  I can't help it.  And every time it happens, it's so hard because I want to crumple into a pile on the floor and cry.  I'm a mess.  A runny, plastic-like, disgusting mess.  I'm scarred and I'm torn and I don't know what to do about it.  That's why I smile.  Your lips get torn apart from each other when you smile wide.  It's a gaping wound.  Just like the wounds that I have and always will have.  And the wider you smile, the more you're torn apart.  But nobody ever guesses.  Ever.  Because nobody knows who I am.  Nobody knows my secrets.  Except, of course, I really do keep living because of my online friends.  Alina's draft post made me remember that.  That's why I'm saying this.  Because I don't feel like I do all those other times on here.  People aren't there to hurt me here, or at least that's how I feel.  And I've already screwed up how people I actually know in real life react around me and how I react around them, so I turn here.  And right now, this is all I am going to discuss.  

This is why I have the attitude I have.  It's why I am who I am.  Really, I feel like even though I hate myself as I am now, I'd rather stay the same than take a gamble at who I might be now if my life had been different.  I might like that girl less.  I believe that one day, it's going to be okay.  In the end, it will all be okay.  That doesn't mean that now is okay.  It just means that somehow, somewhere, some way, we're going to get through this alive and we'll all be glad that what happened actually happened the way it did despite what we think now.  We are who we are and life is how it is because of what's happened.  And if you change something, who knows if it would be worse or better.  But even so, we can't change the past.  We can only brace ourselves for the impact of the future.  I am who I am, and I don't want to risk possibly being someone else because all of this makes me content with what's happened.  Because what's going to happen is going to be beautiful one day.  We just have to wait for it.  And we just have to open our eyes to different kinds of beauty.  There is beauty in pain, sadness, happiness, loneliness, excitement, contentment, you just have to see it.  Life is how it is.  Lay it out straight.  There's not much you can do except hope for the best.  It's a rough ride, but at the end, just be glad that you got to ride.  Don't think about what you could have done or what you could have felt when everything's over.  Think about it now.  And take a deep breath, because somehow everything is going to be okay.  Don't question, just know.  In the end, everything happens for the best.  What you know now and what you've learned is because of what you've been through.  Ignorance is not bliss.  It's wandering through life blind.

Maybe we're not exactly optimistic about everything, but at least we're walking through life with our eyes open.  Don't expect things to always go right, because they won't.  Expect the worst sometimes, because when the best happens you'll be so much happier about it.  Life is awful, but if you really have to, think of it as a contest.  And the more you survive through, the stronger you get, and in the end, the strongest are still there and the weak have eliminated themselves.  Know that life sucks.  Wander through life knowing that you're stepping barefoot over hot coals and broken glass in a narrow dark passageway with spikes on the walls and soot-choked air in your lungs.  Don't close your eyes.  You're bearing the worst.  They think everything is okay because they deny the fact that everything isn't phenomenal all of the time and that everyone and everything isn't perfect.  Pave your own path and see it the way you know it is.  Ignore what people say, because they don't know what's best for you.  They have no place to say what's best for you.  Defy all odds, break rules, force your way to the end, where the coals meet a waterfall.  It cools the stones, and as you walk through the cool, cleansing water, the blood from your wounds is washed away and before you is a lake surrounded by the greenest grass that feels so soft against your aching feet.  And at the end, when everything is over, think about how it would have felt if you had walked through life blindly and you had never seen the waterfall and walked through it.  Rewards come for those who accept things the way they are, as they are, and as they will be.