Damn I'm Crazy

You think you know me. You think that that I am normal. That I have feelings just like everyone else. But you overestimate me. I parade about and act like a normal human with normal feelings…. but that’s not who I am. I am cold and nearly heartless. I have no emotional attachment to any human being. Animals on the other hand… my soul burns for them. Mankind has dug their own grave and it will be satisfying to see their empire fall. I… look forward to death, but don’t mind waiting for it, if you catch my drift. Life is painful, it’s true. I find little comfort in the day to day droll. That’s why writing is so appealing to me. That’s where I get to make my own rules. No longer controlled or misperceived. Everything is just as I plan it. I don’t fit in with the rest of the world. They don’t seem to…. interest me. Ever since middle school I would day dream of having special powers such as that I could control ice and drive it into the back of my classmates necks. Or of portals opening in the middle of class, massacring everyone in the room, and talking me away to a different world. I would never act on these fantasies; I'm not that stupid. Crazy. But not stupid. Anyway back to my earlier point… life is painful. Pain is something I fear. Physical pain… sucks… but I can deal with it… what I fear about it is the extreme side… just imaging the pain of a knife slicing through my skin or a bullet ripping through my joints, or my bones cracking…. just makes chills run down my spine… but I haven’t experienced that… I can deal with the pain I experience every day. It’s low… dull… and constant… with the occasional rise or fall in the intensity. Mental pain is different. Mental pain is caused by others and slowly rises until I go bat-shit crazy. The others who cause the pain don’t even realize they are doing it. This is why I am so vain when it comes to my acting ability. I’ve been like this since they beginning of middle school and yet no one has noticed. I must be truly skilled in the deceptive arts if that don’t even notice when they hurt me. When you kiss someone and they run away and say it’s disgusting. When you ask someone to a dance, and laugh in your face as if it was ridiculous to assume such a thing was even remotely possible. When you finally get your hair just the way you want it, and are told it’s terrible and forced to change it. When you finally find a boy you like and are forbidden from seeing them because they are apparently too old for you. All of these things are harmful. All of these things are what have made me so hateful. After a time… you stop hating them for the cruel comments. And you start hating yourself for them being true. Just before high school I started changing myself. Made myself more appealing to the average person. Now I've become a slave to that… infatuation that comes with people liking you. Even people I don’t like. Its easy, sort of, to just smile and say whatever they want. But it has a price. I feel as if I've sold my soul for this. It’s not worth it, really. Life just doesn’t have any meaning. The only reason I continue to live is to escape the ultimate pain… death. As much as it fascinates me, I know that when it does finally come knocking at my door, it will most likely be painful. Could you imagine a pain so intense that it kills you? Neither can I. but I've tried. The very thought haunts my nightmares. I have dreamt of near death encounters and flying. Flying is almost always there. But I don’t know what significance that holds. Approximately a year ago, I started realizing that I was not myself. I tried to return to my old ways, to be honest and cruel, but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t bring myself to lash out anymore… so I started lashing in… I know its stupid to believe that what everyone said about me was true. I know that it’s stupid to change yourself so that others like you. There is also another thing worth mentioning. I never had a set group of friends growing up. When I was really little, I would play with Austin Jesse and Harrison, the boys who lived on my street. Well… Harrison and Jesse moved away. Then Austin started school a year after me and got his own friends. He stopped talking to me for a while. I would usually play with the boys during recess. At home mom did day care, so there was always someone to play with. I never felt alone. I always had someone around me to play with. Its only looking back on those times when I realize just how pathetic I was? If you asked me now who my best friend was back then, I wouldn’t be able to tell you. I was a friend with Vicky during kindergarten, but she moved away in the middle of the year. I was a friend with Chantel during first grade, but the next year she was in a different class so we didn’t talk again until 5th grade. During first grade, I joined girl scouts. That’s when I got close to Erika Melinda and Hannah. I didn’t really like any of them too much, they argued amongst themselves a lot, especially Hannah and Erika. During 2nd grade, Sidney transferred over from Marquette and joined our little Girl Scout group. She never shut up. And there was plenty of drama between her and me. When fifth grade came around and I started spending a lot of time with Chantel, who was a long time friend of Melinda, she and her family moved 45 minutes away before the beginning of 6th grade. I still saw her on occasion but they were few and far between. She recently moved to Oregon. During middle school I got close to McKenzee, a diabetic troublemaker. Halfway through 7th grade she moved to Miles and we haven’t spoken since. Sure I’d drop a line every now and then, but she was never interested, in me or anyone else from Bellevue. Those were the dark times. Constantly fought with Melinda and Hannah, despised Erika…. just wanted to sit at the guys table everyday for lunch. Just wanted to hang out with them all the time. They treated me like their equal. I thought we were friends. Nathan. The boy had been in and out of my life since mid-elementary. We had neighboring lockers during eighth grade, and I thought we were getting close. He kind of… hit me a lot. I had a bruise on my shoulder for the majority of 8th grade from him hitting me in the same place. However, for two middle school kids of opposite genders, its not so easy being friends. Naturally there was teasing, quite a bit of it in fact. Enough to where they made me think that I did in fact like him romantically. It culminated in an embarrassing escapade of my unrequited frivolity; one that I will not speak of now, it’s in the past for a reason after all. (What am I saying I am such a hypocrite) well then high school started and I managed to land a spot on student council do to some amazing coincidences. That certainly helped my self-esteem. Of course, getting knocked off that pedestal at the end of the year certainly hurt. The point to all of this is that I know that others have it worse than me. I know that there are children starving in Africa or kids being beaten by their parents who would die to be in my place, but the point is… I don’t know. I don’t know what the point is and I am finally able to admit that. After all this time, after all this suffering, I don’t know what the point is to anything. What’s the point of going to school if I'm going to be expected to be someone I'm not? What’s the point of graduating high school if I don’t want that life? What if I don’t want a successful life, what if I just want a quiet life that no one notices. A singular flickering flame in the wide dark night that no one notices when it’s extinguished. That’s why I love writing. That’s why I want to be a hermit in New Zealand. That’s why I hate America (its much to big loud and proud). That’s why I hate people who are in the spotlight. That’s why I love animals. They don’t care about you, they’re just trying to get through life the best they can. They’re not trying to make a big fuss, hey everyone look at me. They just want to live. They do what’s necessary to survive. And then they die. And no one notices. No one mourns them. No tears are shed. They simply die, and move on to whatever is next. For some that is terrifying. For me it is thrilling.