I am sad, and I am not sad about anything, I am sad because people do not care about me. Here is a story that caused this: I somehow had a flashback of my past, recalling all of the times that I was picked on, recalling all of the times that I was accused of malicious conduct that I did not even start or cause, and most important of all, the number of times that people made fun of me for being a smart person.
Back in elementary school, I was picked on the mist because I did everything to perfectly. I was organized, neat, and precise; even in kindergarten. Every single person that I sat by thought that I was a freak of nature and that I could not do anything correctly. All of those days that I sealed in the sadness is currently taking its toll on me. I wonder why I ever did such a thing back then. Then came middle of fifth grade. I moved from my town in the state of New York to my current residence in Michigan. When I moved, I was happy to leave the past behind me. On my first day of school at my new elementary school, it went all down hill. My life was shredded by a good majority of people who bullied me. Before I moved, they used to pick on my soon to be friends who lived in my neighborhood. It is scary how they picked me and not the usual. I felt so ashamed of the fact that I was tortured in such a way. It breaks my heart to know that many people just decide to pick on the new guy instead of the usual. It is as if I was defending my soon to be friends. Unfortunately, the total number of people that I was defending was 10, excludng me.
When I thought fifth grade was horrible, sixth grade was even worse. I have noticed back then that a kid kept getting picked on. I saved him, he became my friend, and his enemies became my enemies. Enemy count: 35; a classroom size group of people who now hate me. Seventh grade, improved when I first discovered my nack for programming. In fact, this made a couple more people jealous, and I gained even more enemies. Eighth grade was just a repeat of seventh grade's enemies.
When I entered high school, I immediately gained a bunch of new friends because I decided to be more open. Unfortunately, I never succeeded in talking to girls. I pretty much never did good around any girls. It is be ause they think that I am too smart for them or it is because I am just not the right type for them. In my second year in high school, I discovered a revolutionary interface that would later end up with me creating a program that acted exactly like a computer because it included a word processor and paint application (black and white grayscale pictures). Then came junior year of high school. I gained even more friends and enemies all because of my mad programing skills. Here is what my enemies keep telling me: they cam eprogran better than me even though they cannot even write a program that can solve a simple equation.
I have always been a target of being picked on whether I be on a general basis or a basis of me being smart. It just makes me upset to think that so many people hate me. It gives me pain to say that some people have told me that I should not be involved in anything. In the past, people have turned their backs on me, and now, I feel that it is just unfair...it is unfair to disrespect a being like me for being smart, and that is who I always will be. They may call me dumb, jerk, geek, or whatever name comes to their minds, but I will not listen to what they say. No longer shall I be picked on for being who I am. Nobody can tell me who I can be or act because they are not me. If they think they can move a mountain with a toothpick, they are wrong. When stuff that common sense says that it will not happen, it will not happen regardless of the situation at hand.
I know this feel. It all began in 4th grade, right after 7/19. I was so unstable back then. And two boys just HAD to use it to their advantage. They used it to make everyone else hate me. In music class, they would flip me off and make hand motions to the songs making fun of me. (We are the Champions was ruined for me because of them) Then in 5th grade, things only got worse with moving to a new school.. I cried almost every day because of it. Life was no better at home. Mom and her (now ex) boyfriend Carl were always drinking, and by the time I hit sixth, they were fighting. I didn't last the whole year- The day after winter break, I come home to find that both mom AND Carl are in Jail. So I go to one of mom's coworker's houses. Dad rescues me on Sunday, we fly back to OR, and we have Middle School 2, aka School 12. Things are fine, for the most part. But the two boys are back- And they're worse. Plus, factor in everyone else, and you've got a mountain of pain. I fought every ounce I could not to cry. But one day, in seventh grade, during a special class called Advisory, my Advisory teacher showed us a video. In the video, I saw this kid- This kid that knew how it felt to be bullied. I broke down, years of pent-up rage, anger, frustration, and millions of other emotions streamed down my faces in the form of little salty droplets. After the video, I tried to hold what fragments of sanity I had left. The teacher walked up to me, and she hugged me. I knew life was okay, for the most part. But then, the day after Christmas, shit hits the fan. Lynn (Dad's now-ex wife) goes crazy. Dad leaves her, taking me with him. And then, a month later, we're at School 13 (Middle School 3.), and this one's just taking the new kid for granted. They teased me, made fun of me, but the real shocker is that one kid MADE AN INSTAGRAM. UNDER MY NAME. I was DONE.