Lost and Pathetic

 I managed to get along. It wasn't that hard to do. I guess it is kind of true, the loneliness does catch up to you at some point, but what else could I do? My mother, my father, always encouraging. Go out, socialize, make friends. Always encouraging. I had friends, though. They encouraged me as well. But you see, the problem was that they just didn't understand. And I know how this may sound pathetic, but it's true. You can never come to comprehend someone's reasons, actions, or decisions unless you've walked on their shoes. Unless you've lived what they have. And sometimes that isn't even enough. But who gives a damn, right? When we see someone acting differently from the way we're accustomed to act, we feel like they're just, wrong. Wrong, because they are not acting like we want them to. And I believe that was our first mistake. To expect someone to act like we want them to because we believe that is the correct thing. Wrong.

When I was in school I asked one of my friends if they would be okay if I died. They looked at me like it was a simple, stupid question, and said, that they would be okay. That after all, if I died nothing would change. My simple existence didn't mean anything to the rest of the world, let alone the universe. After all, I was just one person compared to the millions that existed. I'm not going to lie, that hurt. To know that the one person I always thought I counted on say that my death meant nothing, hurt. But I was just a kid. A naïve, dumb kid. And I still trusted them and liked them and you could even say that I wanted some kind of respect from them. Like I owed them or something like that. God-how could I be so ignorant? I feel so disappointed in myself for letting someone make me feel like I was worthless. Like I was nothing. But mostly I feel disappointed in myself for actually coming to believe it.

My early teenage years were God-damn depressing. I think about them now and feel bad for myself. For the people who had to see that, but mostly for the people who wanted to help but just didn't know how to. And I know I wasn't the only teenager with problems. Aren't those the years where we seek for acceptance? Popularity? Love? But to be completely honest with you, I really wasn't looking for any of that. How pathetic. Depressing and also claims to be special from the rest. Pathetic. But as pathetic as it is, it was true. And no one seemed to understand, but I think they just didn't care. I think to feel all this in teenage years is a complete mistake. Nobody takes it seriously. Claiming that in a few years, they'll be gone. Well, let me tell you something; those were the worst years of my God-damn life, thank you very much.

Its funny how we think we'll forget about it. We never do. We just cope. Get used to the memory. The memory of your innocent self feeling worthless. Curled up in one to many blankets in your bed at one a.m. at midnight. Biting down on a pillow to not wake your parents with the sound of your sulking and crying. But you can still here the muffled cries that come out of your mouth and you feel like your whole world is tumbling down and you feel like there's no more hope for yourself. You're just lost in your own depression. But we learn to deal, get over it. We can't just sulk for ourselves the rest of our lives. No matter how bad we are tempted to.

I still remember my friend, and I still remember my one a.m. self. And -God- I still remember the encouraging. But you deal, and you move on, no matter how much it kills you in the inside. To remember your lost and pathetic self.