Things Just Happen

This is a rant book, where I can just put on issues that I come across day by day, which'll help me, but hopefully you too :) x
*Warning* will contain swearing.


14. Reasons

So, um, I'm just having another heat of the moment thing. I need to let this all out somewhere, and I've never been good with diaries.

I've been reading so many books on Movellas recently, telling the story of their lives, and that's just so incredibly brave of them. Mine's not so much of a story as it is of an explanation... but if someone benefits from this, then I'm the happiest person here, trust me.

I wasn't bullied. I wasn't abused. I just grew up too quickly and started to take things more seriously. Just to make it clear. It's no-one's fault but my own that I am the way I am.

In primary school, I had a best friend, let's call her Emily. It's not her real name, but for the sake of humanity, I'll keep her identity a secret. She and I were inseparable - she was Indian, I was Indian, if the adults didn't know better, we could've been sisters. We were that close. Everyone would want to hang out with us, we were popular back then. Or so I believed.

We were best friends through foundation, but she left halfway through year 1. She moved to India, and after that we'd call her on her birthday, she'd call on mine. Now we don't speak at all.

After she left, everyone just drifted away from me. I don't know why, but the only thing that was going through my head at that age was Why doesn't anyone want to play with me anymore? What else would go on in a child's head at the age of five - I mean, it's all play no work at that time in life. There isn't really much we understand about the world, so we focus on enjoyment instead. While they drifted apart, I became closer to another friendship group that I was slowly becoming a part of in foundation. They were three boys, one I'd already known from nursery. Let's call them Dan, Phil and Tom (Do not blame me for spending too much time on Youtube, okay?). They were amazing. I didn't realy know much about friends in primary school until I got to year six, but they were still amazing. We'd play cricket every lunchtime, since Dan was going to cricket club; he had a plastic bat and a tennis ball. It was pretty fun - we had this thing called the Ball Wall, which meant that you could kick a football at it, you could try and throw tenniss balls at the little rings that were built on one side, or you could play cricket witht the wickets made of wood nailed to the board. It was just... ignorance.

As school life went on, Dan, Phil and Tom always remained my best friends. However, I couldn't help but keep noticing that the girls really didn't want to play with me at lunchtimes, or even just sit next to me (we had these tables that had loads of seats on one long table). They would never say anything horrible, they'd just say that they already had too many people or they were already sitting next to two other people, when they would let everyone else do the things they denied me. This went on up until year six. I'm not sure what happened then, but they seemed to accept me.

But that didn't stop it getting to me. By the time I was in year 4, I was truly starting to wonder what was so wrong with me that they didn't want me. Was it the way I behaved? Was it the way I looked? Was it just generally me? That's when the negative thoughts started coming in. I'd come home everyday and look in the mirror and try to figure out what was so wrong with me.  Words would just pop into my head from nowhere. Fat. Ugly. Nerd. Stupid. Gullible. pathetic. Desperate. Worthless. Childish.

The words kept building up, and as my vocabulary expanded, more words were added to the dictionary of What is so wrong with Vacha Fadia that no one likes her. I couldn't stop it. Everyday I'd go to school, a smile plastered on my face, just so naively hoping that today would be better. Today, someone would finally realise that they'd pushed me out and would make me their friend. Of course, that didn't happen, and I came home everyday and cried. It got to a point hwere my mum came to talk to me about it and I told her that if I went through another day like that, I would nog hesitate to jump out of my bedroom window. She laughed. I told her I was serious. She cried. That was the first day I dimly recognised that I was a monster.

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