Malignant reminders love a good show.
You've let it go. Or so you think. It's the next day, and you've made sure that nothing can ruin your day. There's that slight, bitter nip in the air, but you arrive to school early, so you let it slide. You're by yourself, alone, but that's normal. People are chattering nonsensically about their problems, and attempting to one up each other in their 'suffering'.
"I'm so hungry, I didn't even eat breakfast!"
"I slept at 12 and woke up at 6 today."
"Oh yeah? I didn't sleep a wink!"
You desperately want to join, you want to feel like you're the king of all stressed out students, but are instead, the one that comforts them, because that's how others want to be treated, showered with attention that they don't deserve. But of course, you always end up slipping. "I wake up at 5 o' clock sometimes."
Then, the reminder.
The reminder that you are completely useless, insignificant, how no one will ever appreciate you for what you do, because you don't deserve to be appreciated. You aren't important. And the others, they all are. They congratulate each other, and this, this is what hits home.
"This is amazing! We should all go and celebrate!" And everyone agrees and cheers, clapping friends on the back.
You are not part of this 'we'. You never were. And then you realize that's your position in the world. The one that's not part of a 'we'. Not included with 'us'.
The realization doesn't hurt as much as it should, because the fact has always been gnawing at you, grating and obvious. And suddenly, you're exhausted, and the sound turns into dull pounding, but the world is still so sharp and cold. You're angry at yourself, you're angry at the world, but you don't deserve to be angry at such a significant planet as this. Life is not fair. You can't concentrate and let your eyes fill up with burning, embarrassing tears, silent, so no one else shares your sorrow, because being selfish is wrong.
What do you do? You fake. And you've been faking for such a long time that it's natural, and the quiver of your voice as all but been flat-lined, instead punctuated with a jokey, happy, tone, and the only give away is how your fingers have curled into the crevices of your eyes to catch the tears, slicking them down the apples of your cheeks. Of course, no one notices, only you. You've fooled yourself before, but there are times you can't. Every single time, your heart twitches, and you almost, almost let your breath hitch in your throat, almost give yourself away.
You know that the only way people will figure out is if you slip up. The only pride you have left is an impenetrable mask that no one will ever manage to break though. It's a cold, puny shard of an ego you keep, and you honestly want to get rid of it, but people like the mask a lot more, and you know this. The facade is hard to maintain sometimes, but you've always managed. Secretly, you want someone to find out by themselves, you want someone to whittle their time away, just as you have for countless others, without them even noticing. You'll notice, and you'll appreciate it.
You keep wishing. The time will never come, but you wish on every pair of overlapping clock hands, every penny picked up from the ground.
"I'm so hungry, I didn't even eat breakfast!"
"I slept at 12 and woke up at 6 today."
"Oh yeah? I didn't sleep a wink!"
You desperately want to join, you want to feel like you're the king of all stressed out students, but are instead, the one that comforts them, because that's how others want to be treated, showered with attention that they don't deserve. But of course, you always end up slipping. "I wake up at 5 o' clock sometimes."
Then, the reminder.
The reminder that you are completely useless, insignificant, how no one will ever appreciate you for what you do, because you don't deserve to be appreciated. You aren't important. And the others, they all are. They congratulate each other, and this, this is what hits home.
"This is amazing! We should all go and celebrate!" And everyone agrees and cheers, clapping friends on the back.
You are not part of this 'we'. You never were. And then you realize that's your position in the world. The one that's not part of a 'we'. Not included with 'us'.
The realization doesn't hurt as much as it should, because the fact has always been gnawing at you, grating and obvious. And suddenly, you're exhausted, and the sound turns into dull pounding, but the world is still so sharp and cold. You're angry at yourself, you're angry at the world, but you don't deserve to be angry at such a significant planet as this. Life is not fair. You can't concentrate and let your eyes fill up with burning, embarrassing tears, silent, so no one else shares your sorrow, because being selfish is wrong.
What do you do? You fake. And you've been faking for such a long time that it's natural, and the quiver of your voice as all but been flat-lined, instead punctuated with a jokey, happy, tone, and the only give away is how your fingers have curled into the crevices of your eyes to catch the tears, slicking them down the apples of your cheeks. Of course, no one notices, only you. You've fooled yourself before, but there are times you can't. Every single time, your heart twitches, and you almost, almost let your breath hitch in your throat, almost give yourself away.
You know that the only way people will figure out is if you slip up. The only pride you have left is an impenetrable mask that no one will ever manage to break though. It's a cold, puny shard of an ego you keep, and you honestly want to get rid of it, but people like the mask a lot more, and you know this. The facade is hard to maintain sometimes, but you've always managed. Secretly, you want someone to find out by themselves, you want someone to whittle their time away, just as you have for countless others, without them even noticing. You'll notice, and you'll appreciate it.
You keep wishing. The time will never come, but you wish on every pair of overlapping clock hands, every penny picked up from the ground.