a spoonful of truth helps the medicine go down

Sitting alone during lunch on a bench long enough for three people in middle school was a reason I loathed ninth grade.  Among other things and other lonely places.  It wasn't all days, but it was most.  And it turns out that high school would be much the same; except this time around, it didn't hurt quite like it did before because I'd been exposed to the negative negatives of myself already.  I used to hope with all my heart that someone, anyone, would come sit by me and we'd become best friends.  That we'd just connect.  I daydreamed about it a lot.  I don't hope for it anymore.  What I realize now is that the reason no one sat by me or sits by me, is and was because I never said a word.  I expected someone to come up to me when I never put myself out there or went up to others who I wanted to talk to.  Or at least that's what I tell myself.  The other thing I tell myself is that I'm so unlikable that it would be better if I was invisible.  Because then people wouldn't be uncomfortable with seeing me pretend that I'm waiting for someone or that I'm by myself for a reason.  It'd just be better. For me too.  It's kind of twisted, but I'd actually enjoy it.  I'm unapproachable and I'm afraid I come off as cold.  I'm afraid that whatever I say or do sounds pretentious or insincere.  Even my laugh.  That when I do say anything, it's an intrusion and I'm just tainting what I don't have the privilege to touch.  That's what this blog feels like.  Another place where I shouldn't be and shouldn't belong because I'm not supposed to be here in the first place.  One of my favorite parts about swim sophomore year was that we had to leave during lunch in order to get into the water on time.  Meaning I wouldn't have to try to be social.  I wouldn't say my voice is rusty.  Because rust is for things that were there before.  I'm a senior in high school and I still don't know how to speak coherently.  I'm afraid that when people try to talk to me, they give up because it's easier talking to a wall.  I'm afraid that people give up on me without talking to me at all.  And the thing is, I don't blame them.  Because I am hard to talk to.  And before anyone tries, I want to scream a disclaimer to them:   I'M NOT A GOOD PERSON AND I'M NOT WORTH THE EFFORT. Vagueness and repetition of simple words are not decipherable. I think when I think that people think of me I think too highly of myself. Goodness, there were four thinks in that sentence. I don't think that boy remembers the odd tone in which I said thanks.  I don't think that girl remembers that I forgot to say sorry when I almost ran into her.  I don't think that adorable boy remembers that one of my eyes sometimes looks smaller than the other.  I don't think that teacher remembers my name.  I don't think they remember that I didn't pronounce personable right or that I didn't know Brazil's official language is Portuguese when I should have remembered the Treaty of Tordesillas from two years of history with my favorite teacher.  I think they think I'm stupid.  I think they think I'm anti-social.  To an extent, I probably am.  I think they think I'm ugly.  I think they think I'm a waste of space.  I think they hate me.  I think they think I'm mean. I think I am all those things. Really though, they is code for you.  Even though I don't say much, I feel like I'm prone to saying the wrong thing everywhere.  In comments too.  But I'm tired of thinking of me, me, me in the eyes of others.  Or in what I think people see.

I don't know what I'd do without the library.  Nobody needs a weird girl always hovering around the perimeter of conversations or awkwardly standing just outside of the circle saying nothing.  Nada.  Never.  What an awful friend I am and have always been.  Because I haven't talked to mine in ages.  I know I've never had extremely close friends in which we tell each other everything honest and real, but I could have at least tried to be a good one when I had the chance.  When I had the chances.  Three Days Grace is in my head with, "it's never too late" because I can't think of the phrase without the song.  But I do pessimistically believe that with me, it is too late.

Give me a buddy to talk to.  I can do that.  Give me buddies to talk to.  I can't do that.  I shut down.  It's always in my mind that I'll say something unintentionally inexcusable or whatever I want to say shouldn't be said because the moment when I should have said it passed.  And it's this constant war in my brain that I've given up on fighting because I don't think it's worth it anymore. Convince me otherwise would take all night.

Before you walk away, there's one more thing I want to say.  

Our brains are sick but that's okay.  

Sorry, the line launched me into thinking about Twenty One Pilots.  I'm sporadically on the verge of explosion with the excitement that they're coming back.  Two weeks from today.  That's what I'm looking forward to.  Not fixing my four F's in time to graduate.  Not drawing thirty pieces of artwork by next Thursday.  Not driving when I've only driven once since I got my license in November.  Not hearing more about how I didn't get any scholarships because I didn't study hard enough for the ACT because the ACT is the only thing that matters and whatever else I did in high school doesn't mean much and my brother's got a full ride to college and I barely got accepted and I'm always a burden for my parents and they say money isn't the issue but I know darn well it certainly is one.  I'm not looking forward to graduation.  Don't get me wrong, I'm ecstatic to get out of high school, only, graduation's a reminder of how much of a disappointment I've become.  Concerts seem to be the only thing I look forward to anymore.  I'm flying solo again and I want to say that it's okay but I'm not really sure that I am.

Sometimes when people sit next to me anywhere, I scoot slightly away from them.  It's for the most stupid reason too.  I believe everyone's better off not knowing me and that movement has always been my butt's way of saying I'm not worth your time.  I know how silly that is.  I know how insecure it is.  I know how idiotic it is.