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Chronicles of a Social Reject.Category: (general)
Tuesday, 4 January 2011
03:27:24 AM (GMT)
Chronicles of a Social Reject.
Dear Diary, Today during a lecture in Integrated science my teacher said “Pair up with a friend, we have a lab on our hands.” I remember searching around and looking for someone I remotely knew, hoping maybe someone would make eye contact and say “hey, she needs a friend.” I got up and watched the people pass me and grab their papers and begin to work, pairing up in groups of two to three. Everyone seemed so happy together, they didn’t need me. I sat back down at the other side of the room and observed them. Everyone was smiling, happy, talking… Every day I’d tell myself that one day I’ll get up and change, and I’ll be just like them. I’ll have friends and be a fantastic conversationalist, but until then my eloquence and procrastination stop me from doing so. I just watched, and I noticed how lonely I really was. There were thirty kids in the room and not a single one came over to me to see what was wrong. I couldn’t help but cry. Everything felt so slow, my heart rate was low and my thinking process was at a steady three miles per hour. I just wanted to sleep or go and run in traffic to test people’s brakes. Maybe if I did that someone’s brakes would fail on them and I wouldn’t have to put up with this. After that came lunch, and during lunch I ate a single chicken nugget and drank orange juice, I felt too fat to eat any more. It made me sick to my stomach. To this day I still think that maybe if I grew my nails out and did my hair and lost weight I’ll be cool. But I noticed it doesn’t do much, really. I can’t connect with children my age. I’m not a good conversationalist, I’m shy, I’m introverted, and I don’t like people. I try to like them, I try to be optimistic but as soon as I get up off my butt and try and stand up and be normal I get torn down again. The fact of matter is that I’ve got a single friend. My only friend being my Diary, the only thing I come to know and trust. I can’t trust people; I could never trust another human more than these pages. I simply use pencil because it’s not permanent like the impact on a human. A human mind is deceiving, hence forth why not to trust it. It is confusing, angry and spent by the age of fourteen, and doesn’t have enough room to hold their own dramas meanwhile their peers are filling their heads with their own doubts and worries which leaves a human to rant to another person. Either it is on the internet or to another human, in some form or other, everybody knows everything and by the time you notice it your idea will be universal. And so I come home, and because I’ve got no one to talk to that I trust, I write this. End, Anonymous. A story being worked on in the words of Autumn Marie Luciano.


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