I'm Mike. I'm... some person.
I was born thinking that life is all about being a good person to oneself and to everyone... that no matter how I'm good to anything or anyone, I'll always get something good in the end. Grew up some more years, and that slightly began to change... or rather fade. I was sometimes met with extreme shaming for being good to people. Being good doesn't revolve around just helping people. It also revolves around accepting them for who they are, doing your utmost best to make them see life from a better and more colorful perspective, making them, in turn, confident enough to do the same for everyone. Alas, I was met with this: "you're pretentious", "you're weird", "you're weak." In their eyes, I was weak for being good to people. I could've been getting it all wrong, maybe they're trying to tell me that life is living hell, that it's not all double rainbows and flying unicorns. Some more years later, 3 years ago... I realized they were right.
To be a good person, you need to step in crap every single step of the way. Be shamed for accepting what they call an abomination unto God. Be forced to leave another person at the mercy of bullies. I was called names for it, and when I didn't choose to comply by a bully's rules, it comes hailing down on me for a straight... well, couple of months. I was just trying to help. It was this cursed time of the year, every year until I managed to go to high school. I prayed at the beginning of every school year that I won't be called names, won't get into fights, won't be framed for things I didn't do, won't be misunderstood, and every year, each of those happens more than once. I didn't want this, nor did I expect it. All I ever wanted was to stay in peace, but then again, I had to be stuck with them, and with their constant spitting on and jeering me. And when it gets too heavy to bear, I turn into a monster. Nobody wants to talk to me then. In fact, most of them just want to make fun of how I look when I'm mad. Even when I was looking for protection behind my teachers I was told to "man up", so when it gets even worse, I start hurting them physically, and then I get detention for being violent. Such was the never-ending cycle of my life, until I reached high school, of course.
Now I'm a total failure at everything else.
Most of my post high school time was just me staying at home, playing games, downloading stuff I don't need, watching JonTron and eating when I'm bored. But really, what gives? I don't have anyone trusted enough to resort to anyway, knowing that even when I say this, I'd blurt my pains to almost anyone I see in my way.
Now the unnecessary details: I'm single, I have a fat belly, I have acne on my face and I walk around with a possibly infected fistula post-operation open wound. Every time the wound hurts when I sit, I have to lie that my back just hurts, but I can't lie for long. I refrain from washing my face on a regular basis because I'm lazy. I have a fat belly from eating too much fast food, and I'm single probably because of two of the above. What I mean by this is that, I was never accepted for who I am. I don't know if it's the way I look, even though I change my facial hairstyle every once in a while just to earn myself some confidence and self-esteem, but it never helps. You're never really sure if it's you or the fact that almost everyone you run to in your area is not interested in your type. I'm actually a lazy ass. The biggest amount of motivation anyone could get is never enough to convince me to lose my weight, unless you call my mom telling me that I look like a character from some Egyptian movie with that belly a sort of motivation. But what exactly is my "type"? I didn't know that you look for men to marry the same way you look for a computer to buy! Her man has to be a damned hunk with perfect facial hair, while I get told that my belly looks ugly and my facial hair is nothing compared to Dimebag Darrell's. Why is it that I, compared to everyone else, am like a key that's so deformed it's doomed not to find its lock, assuming that a fat belly and non-fully grown facial hair are deformations? I'm not complete or perfect, either. I do mistakes, I get in trouble for stuff... but the bad thing is, it gets etched in my memory so tightly that my past has a huge influence on my actions and emotions to this day. "Let go of your past" is a phrase I hear often about this, but really, it doesn't work. I can't let go of my past unless something in the present happens to change something in it, or more precisely, undo it. The worst things that happened so far were never undone or changed.
I'm the founder and frontman of a metal band in my area. It may sound cool, but us who listen to or play the genre are among the most hated factions of the country's population. Much worse if I tell you this.
To play our first concert, I had to argue and fight with my band over a script I wrote for what I'm going to say between the tracks in the concert. After the fight's been calmed down, we played the gig and everyone who insisted that I'm a prick for standing for my right to use a script I kept for the day I hit the big stage, left on their own. A few days later I find that the other band member I have as an admin on the band page has kicked me out of it, and that's when I started to have trust issues. Not just that, he even brought the already-out members to convince everyone that it's not my band and that it never was mine. And on the band's description the words were, "we are one entity". Apparently I was a guest who brought the members, right? A few days later they offered to give me back the page under certain conditions. I refused all the conditions and was ready to kill them to have my band back. Out of being "fed up with my crap" they gave me my page back and left my life... but not completely.
Today I have to suffer the burden of being the talk of the day every day, except that it's all about how I apparently was a prick to the whole music scene. So I was involuntarily a prick to everyone.
Now about my love life, it's actually a one-side kind of thing every single time. Every time I collect the courage to go talk to someone, and be friends with them for a significant time, they just take the whole thing and put it under their shoe saying "any girl would want to have you, Mike, but you're not my type". Right. I am apparently no-one's type, but any girl would want to have me, right? Why is it, that when I'm at the epitome of my confidence and self-esteem, I get lies like this? Yes, lies! Why don't you just get straight to the point without sugarcoating your rejection and tell me that you just don't like me? And my self-esteem dies with every single time this is said to me. First time, maybe that's right. Second time, maybe I just chose the wrong person. Third, fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh and I'm losing myself over lies, lies, lies! Why can't you just be frank and tell me to kill myself because I look so f***ing ugly?! And the other ones who can't see friendship and love as two mutually exclusive terms... there is a difference they just can't see! And then they complain about legalizing gay marriage, f***, what exactly is wrong with the type of girls here? Yes... the "type". Right. My place is definitely not here, not among a bunch of liars, people who can't keep a promise and those who do not know how to use an expression correctly and then blame everyone else for getting it wrong! And even worse, when I'm not actually into someone, they get wrong signs and think I'm stalking them, even though I'm not even interested in them... as if being misunderstood every two days wasn't enough to f*** my life up. I wouldn't even think, last time I even wanted to talk to someone they had a stack of messages in their inbox from me and the next thing you know, a post from them on the site like my messages aren't worth s***!
And them ignoring my existence and being fed up of my persistence to have back what's rightfully mine... that's why my self-esteem is dead.
And as you see, I'm prone to having my trust shattered, disfigured and spat on, every single day of my life. I trust people on things, and later on be told that I'm the reason why other people are suffering. Really? A 19 year old guy, with dreams so dear to his own self he can't take them any less seriously, is the architect of your suffering? Who exactly, for your god's sake, is the architect of someone's suffering here? Is it me? Or is it those who stole my dreams, those who lied to me, those who didn't keep a promise, those who made use of my kindness and turned it against me, those who made me compromise to get back what is mine?! I have to deal with types of this crap every day just because I'm being myself! This is why I don't want to see people every day. This is why I end up talking to myself in the mirror because I have no one else to talk to! And even those I'm eager to talk to, instead of listening to what I have captive inside my troubled mind, they just go on talking about their life events, as if my misery and constant mental suffering are no match for the delicious meal they had with their friends at Hardee's. Even my mother, every time she sees my long face she goes "what's your excuse this time?"
I don't like now, or here. I hate myself to the extent that makes me want to remorselessly disfigure my own face for my and everyone else's sake! And it's this instant memory sewing machine in my head that just won't stop, it makes me this close to choking on a pile of rat poison and curling in pain before I fall to my demise! Demise? Who cares? Who would care, that's just me, move along, it's just the corpse of some guy who didn't live up to the world's standards of a typical, boring, selfish, demented, heartless human being!
Who cares?
I care.
But who cares if I care?
My past is scary.