Prime example that it’s fine to make fun of yourself. I could never open a plastic bag for nothing. My toes were never strong enough to pull the sides apart and hope for the best. Well, today was the first day where I hoped for the best and hoped my toes wouldn’t break in the process. I tried to grip the sides and pull them apart. That didn’t work, so you know the little hole where they have at the top so they can be hung on the wall type thing (I don’t know what that’s called) and I put my toe nail through it and griped ahold of the left side and pulled it back and it split right down the middle.
That’s how my luck is. If I try to do something new or just do something in general, it breaks in the wrong place. In school, trying to rip the piece of paper of the notebook was always so fun! By the time I got into seventh grade I tried gave up on taking a piece of paper out and gave my notebook to my aide. I had no problem with folding papers. That was always fun to do. Now that I think about it, back then you could see some OCD forming. If the sides didn’t match up I’d do over again. I never understood why I did that. I wanted things to be neat apparently. Normally, I’m not that neat either.
My mom just gave me a Jolly Rancher from my bag. I got it out of the bag for her so we didn’t break the bag anymore and lose it altogether. I have a feeling though, my dad will go to grab it off the floor and it will just rip the rest of the way and there will hundreds of different colored candies on my floor. Thank god they have their individual wrappers around them or I’d have to throw them away and that would suck since I’m the one who bought them in the first place. Anyways, I gave my Cherry candy to my mom to unwrap for me and guess what happens next? It falls from her fingers, bounces off my bed and onto my floor. She then looks at it and pops it into my mouth. It’s still pretty good. I just wish it was a blue one, because then everything would have been worth it. Oh well.
Earlier I was going through about three of my notebooks for something I need at the moment. I have a huge stack of notebooks. I have a gray notebook that is still “new” and hasn’t been used very much. Not many of my notebooks are covered from the first page to the last. My earliest notebook I have saved has dates from 2004 and has my immature lists and sketches of crazy things I did in different classes. I found different journal entries I tried to start-up and I saw my desperate self at 13 and 14 years old hoping for things I never got during my school days. In this notebook, there was a diary entry from 2004. What it said made me think of those years and realize that I no longer look for a boyfriend anymore, but I still want to find acceptance. No matter how hard I try, I still look for it.
“I wish I had a boyfriend. I wish I was like other girls and was pretty enough for everybody to like me.”
Throughout middle and high school, it was like proving to the other kids around me was such a “in” thing. I was never bullied, but I did bully someone. In middle school, I never got the talk that bullying was bad. It seemed like everybody did it to get everybody on their sides. Which was my problem. I was always out to earn my respect I wanted to do everything in my power to show I wasn’t just a handicapped kid. In 6th grade, everybody wanted acceptance because we were in classes we didn’t know. We didn’t have reputations yet, but it wasn’t long before you would. Nobody told us what was wrong and what was right. It was like, everybody said. “oh they’re just learning about each other. They’ll be best friends.” It was like nobody took things seriously. We were young, I certainly didn’t know what I was doing was a bad thing. Nobody told it was a bad thing. It was a mistake and I learned from it.
Reputations can suck sometimes. If people see you one way, they usually can’t see like anything else. In high school, I wanted to be in the popular side for fun and the guys that came with it. I can remember the beginning of high school and wanting and yearning to be in the popular group. They made everything flawless. My only problem was that these girls weren’t in wheelchairs. They weren’t stuck in a seat for eight hours thinking about their futures. At the end of my high school days, at our senior dinner, the popular group had their long table and I no longer wanted to be in their group. I thought I had my group and I wasn’t going to leave their side for nothing. I was wrong again. First it was the popular group making me feel unwelcomed. About a year ago, it became my little group. I have not hung out with just my friends in almost a full year. I, again felt unwelcomed into their new life.
I have been back and forth between fed up with everybody and wanting to give them another chance. When I started up on Twitter, I didn’t feel like I needed my other friends to be happy, but I was wrong I did. It sickens me whenever I know they’re hanging out with other people and if I text them that we should plan a day together it may never happen. I hate getting depressed over this shit all the time. I hate reading my family’s replies everytime I make a post like this, because nobody and nothing helps my situation. I could hang out with one person one day and probably be depressed that night because they’ve said, “we’ll plan for another weekend” and it never happens. I’m getting sick of being left out but I hate it even more that people who don’t understand are replying back. I don’t want any sympathy, I just need to let it out.