I'm another mindless teenager that can't seem to see the good in life. Though I've tried, I'm another person who simply ignores problems hoping they would go away over time. Its how I live, but I do have a reason for typing this.
I'm not infact going crazy, my problems started when I was so little I can barely remember. I had terrible ear infections and had alot of trouble hearing and for a while my mom swore I was able to read lips, which is a talent that I still can faintly do though I'm not very acurate, back then all I wanted was to be noticed. I was always kind of the third wheel in my parents eyes.
My brother was taken care of by my dad, and my sister was taken care of by my mom andI was just sort of in the middle. You know, the oddman out. And what really made a difference was that I'm at least eight years younger then my siblings. All I really wanted was my moms attention but I was born semi-modest and never did much.
It was when she sent me off to a preschool that would 'help with my hearing loss and delayed speach' that I needed her desperately. That preschool bothered me so much I occasionally havenightmares of it, and their not blurry I remember it like it was yesterday. It bothered me then and always will I suspect. You see, that day was like any other. First, one of the aids that never really liked me I don't know why, kept reexplaining how to do the foot painting activity. Although it was helpful when she repeated it once maybe twice, but after that it only degraded me. All I wanted to say was, 'please stop' but I couldn't. Whenever I would even open my mouth Mrs. Washburn would act as though I was an idiot. This time in particular realy hurt me.
After we did the foot painting she helped me wash my foot off, although I understood what to do, and then did some sort of plaster thing. By then my patience was growing wary and finaly after repeating the instructions for the tenth time I glared at her and couldn't hold it in. To this day I remember saying, "I understand." Like always she stared at me, and this time the rest of the room stared at me too. I started crying and ran to the play area, specifically the pool of balls and hid in there until my mom came to get me. When i ran towards her she didn't hug me, instead she shook her head and we both went home, I was ashamed and hurt.
I know, it still bothers me that it happened, and I mean I was like five then, and normal people don't remember that kind of stuff, but I'm not normal if I 'm here right?
My point is that I'm /always/ second best to my mom, or I'm never smart enough. But my story gets worse:
By second grade everyone knew that I was different because I was taking extra speach and hearing classes and even a reading class, although I didn't need it the whole time i could read fine, I just didn't want to read. I think it was Brett Thompson who finally told everyone that I was retarded, I was heart broken. And after a while, I started believing what they were saying. Even going along with it as if it were a joke beacuse sometimes it numbed my paint. It was only temporary.
Then recently my old friend, Danielle, decided that I wasn't good enough for her one day, beacuse she sold me out for some popularity, and a month later came wimpering back to me because they weren't nice. The worst part was that I forgave her. I hate myself for being a doormat.
Then another best friend, Maddy this time, had developed bulemia, then almost died from it. Alex, yet another best friend, lost it. Shes seeing a shrink shes insanely depressed and I can't take it anymore.
--Maddy is a good person, and she means well but I'm only useful if I'm a shrink, and I'm not. i don't know what I'm talking about and I can't help her, but I can't say that beacuse I have a fear of being different.
Of being that kid in the spotlight wishing she would die because she knows everyone thinks shes retarded.
I don't want to be her anymore, I don't want to be the doormat and I'm tired of being second-best in even my parents eyes.
So tell me what am I suposed to do?
I'm not infact going crazy, my problems started when I was so little I can barely remember. I had terrible ear infections and had alot of trouble hearing and for a while my mom swore I was able to read lips, which is a talent that I still can faintly do though I'm not very acurate, back then all I wanted was to be noticed. I was always kind of the third wheel in my parents eyes.
My brother was taken care of by my dad, and my sister was taken care of by my mom andI was just sort of in the middle. You know, the oddman out. And what really made a difference was that I'm at least eight years younger then my siblings. All I really wanted was my moms attention but I was born semi-modest and never did much.
It was when she sent me off to a preschool that would 'help with my hearing loss and delayed speach' that I needed her desperately. That preschool bothered me so much I occasionally havenightmares of it, and their not blurry I remember it like it was yesterday. It bothered me then and always will I suspect. You see, that day was like any other. First, one of the aids that never really liked me I don't know why, kept reexplaining how to do the foot painting activity. Although it was helpful when she repeated it once maybe twice, but after that it only degraded me. All I wanted to say was, 'please stop' but I couldn't. Whenever I would even open my mouth Mrs. Washburn would act as though I was an idiot. This time in particular realy hurt me.
After we did the foot painting she helped me wash my foot off, although I understood what to do, and then did some sort of plaster thing. By then my patience was growing wary and finaly after repeating the instructions for the tenth time I glared at her and couldn't hold it in. To this day I remember saying, "I understand." Like always she stared at me, and this time the rest of the room stared at me too. I started crying and ran to the play area, specifically the pool of balls and hid in there until my mom came to get me. When i ran towards her she didn't hug me, instead she shook her head and we both went home, I was ashamed and hurt.
I know, it still bothers me that it happened, and I mean I was like five then, and normal people don't remember that kind of stuff, but I'm not normal if I 'm here right?
My point is that I'm /always/ second best to my mom, or I'm never smart enough. But my story gets worse:
By second grade everyone knew that I was different because I was taking extra speach and hearing classes and even a reading class, although I didn't need it the whole time i could read fine, I just didn't want to read. I think it was Brett Thompson who finally told everyone that I was retarded, I was heart broken. And after a while, I started believing what they were saying. Even going along with it as if it were a joke beacuse sometimes it numbed my paint. It was only temporary.
Then recently my old friend, Danielle, decided that I wasn't good enough for her one day, beacuse she sold me out for some popularity, and a month later came wimpering back to me because they weren't nice. The worst part was that I forgave her. I hate myself for being a doormat.
Then another best friend, Maddy this time, had developed bulemia, then almost died from it. Alex, yet another best friend, lost it. Shes seeing a shrink shes insanely depressed and I can't take it anymore.
--Maddy is a good person, and she means well but I'm only useful if I'm a shrink, and I'm not. i don't know what I'm talking about and I can't help her, but I can't say that beacuse I have a fear of being different.
Of being that kid in the spotlight wishing she would die because she knows everyone thinks shes retarded.
I don't want to be her anymore, I don't want to be the doormat and I'm tired of being second-best in even my parents eyes.
So tell me what am I suposed to do?