A Never Ending Cycle · 9:05am Sep 18th, 2017
Pull up a chair. Listen to some good music. It's going to be a long one, folks.
In advance, please accept my apologies for the oncoming ranting and preaching and idiocy. And I'm sorry I don't have adorable poni poni poni pics to throw at you like many of your favorite bloggers. The only thing I have to share is a story, my story, and I hope some of you can relate to it. Feel free to ignore this blog if it doesn't pertain to your interest—it's more so to clear my own head and put myself bare.
INSTALLMENT 1 | SELF-REFLECTIONS
A NEVER ENDING CYCLE
My first ever memory was actually a dream, one about a birthday I had when I was four. I was running down the steps in the first home I ever remember, before spotting this tiny, blue liquid-like man running across the floor. For whatever reason, I picked up this man and ate him, before running down the stairs yet again to a darkened basement.
The lights came on, my family and their friends popped out like cardboard cutouts, wishing me a happy birthday. I'm not sure what happened after that, only that I woke up choking, jumping around my bedroom like I had gone mad with something. I'm sure that I had peed the bed.
That very same day saw me off to my first time inside Kindergarten. For whatever reason, I still struggled to breathe, almost to the point where I thought that was the way I was going to die, before being able to breathe again. The staff and the other kids I met that day are a blur in my memory, all except for my former best friend.
His name was Chris, a bit big for a kid, but the nicest one you'd ever meet. He always won the affection of his others through his kindness, a quality that was never forced, but rather, just a part of who he truly was. While I'd get pent up over sharing a piece of my chocolate bar, Chris was sharing his sandwich with a kid who didn't have a lunch.
How we became friends eludes me now. All I remember is how we would play blocks, making swords and little spinners, and having a lot of fun while we did so. As it has become the trend for me now, I had been playing alone like many days before, when he just joined me out of the blue. I enjoyed our friendship more than anything, including when I would return home to play the Gamecube alone in the basement.
I think I was the one that begged him to be my best friend, and was surprised when he said yes. I had made my first ever friend, both of us practically inseparable, rocketing up the grades until grade three. Both of us had made new friends and enjoyed unforgettable teachers, but then, upon reaching grade three, we met someone special, and formed the Trio of Best Friends.
Her name was Abbygail Stevens, and she was the only girls I ever loved.
I can't remember exactly why I fell in love with her. I was too dumb of a kid to judge anyone for anything, and if anyone were worthy of judgment, it would have been stupid little me. But Abbygail, I loved everything about her from the moment I met her. Everything was joking about how she was a little on the fat side, but that never took away from the whole that made her perfect.
The three of us ended becoming close due to all of our parents being split. This fact seemed upset the two greatly, and I never really understood why at the time. I never knew what a family was supposed to be like, and how much it hurt to have that harmony at home torn apart—I was just too dumb to understand the depth that they shared.
They let me listen in any way.
I wish I could share with you all the magic of those many recesses. The stories shared in the secret hiding place close to the parking lot, the countless times we played tag across the field, and all the friends we'd say hi and bye to as we lined in to go back inside. I could write a million words detailing those youthful days, yet I wouldn't be any closer to capturing the magic that surrounds them.
But, of course, we all had to grow up.
Grade five saw us to the final year of elementary school, and all three of us were ready to walk our separate paths. Pride accompanied me on how we were all embarking on our second step in life, but had I known this would be the last time I ever saw my best friends; I think I would've hugged them tight with tears running down my eyes.
Abby had known of my crush since grade three. Hell, everyone knew. It was joked about and sang about, and I'm not quite sure her and I ever got close, but I know that we became great friends. Or, at least, I hope we did. It's hard thinking back to your past, where the memories that mean so much to you are often the blurriness. I really want to say that we were close, but I can never be sure.
I can never be sure of most things in life.
However, the day of our graduation, Abby was telling me she would be transferring to a Catholic school. I never quite got why, but I never questioned it. All I know is that I wanted to become Catholic so I could join the same school as her. I doubt that was ever her intention—I tend to leap despite people never asking me to.
But that's the thing. I don't value myself because I'm dumb—I only value those around me, and I'll do anything to be close to them. That's my fatal flaw, the reason why I've hurt myself countless times for nothing in the end, and end up annoying those who I wished would value me just a little bit because of my efforts.
In grade six, I learned that efforts don't matter.
I had been in your regular middle school when I began to notice the extent of my stupidity. Kids would snicker when I raised my hand, teachers sighed when I gave my answer, and the many F's next to my illegible handwriting was enough to ingrain the message. I had been put in a special class in elementary school, with a teacher set to supervise me, and the same looked to become true in this school yet again.
But the teacher I had for math never gave up on me. Kind, with the softest voice, staying late to ease me through an equation. A clever man that we frequently heard advocating over the radio—someone I'll always fondly remember. He told me that I had something, probably something he told countless other kids, but I almost believed him at the time. He said that if I kept working hard that I could catch up—not to consider myself stupid.
I had made new friends in that class. Buddies who had my back, who would play with me out on the field. It may not have been as great as the school before, but I was slowly learning how to ease in. My marks began to improve, and some folks didn't seem to mind my antics, but I was still considered one of the unpopular kids.
And then, one day, everything started to get harder. English and math stopped making sense. The teachers were getting mad at my inability to process such easy content. The things I'd say or do were annoying or rude. I never strived to be a troublemaker, never even tried—I just wanted to fit in like everyone else, something I've still yet to do.
Once again, me trying my best ended up in failure. Finally, when algebra was introduced, I knew that I just couldn't do it—I couldn't let that teacher down. I ask my mother for a transfer of schools, and when he heard about it, he sat me down and we talked for a long while. I fed him the bull of needing to learn about God, but that tired smile he gave me showed he knew I was just running away.
Running away I did, to the school that held the girl I loved.
It took me a while to settle at St. Annes. Usually, the fright of meeting new people in a new environment would've had me crying to the bathroom, but there was someone I had to meet. I talked to everyone in my class, and in the next class over, if a girl named Abby girl had transferred over.
No one had heard of her.
I waited for a bit. I was dumb, so I thought something must have come up. I was the type of kid that was too innocent ever intentionally to do something bad, and I still didn't know what lying was. If someone said they were going to do something, then they were going to do it—that was the way the universe worked.
That innocent thinking didn't last me long, when I had joined a religion and a new school, just to find myself completely alone. In my previous school, I had folks from Elememrty, but now I had no one. I ended up meeting new friends, new teachers and such, but nothing felt the same, and it has yet to since. No girl ever amounted to what I felt for Abby, and none have since then. No man ever reminds me of Chirs, because his kindness was unique, for he allowed a strange kid like me to be his best friend.
That is all I have to tell for the moment. I need to get back into the gym, and when you miss a day, then you're bound to lose more. But if I may, I'd like to end this long winded blog with a message.
For most of my life, I have felt like that strange kid out. No matter where I go, where I work, or who I meet, and I will always be the strange one out. It's been that way since I'm a kid, and it'll be that way when I die. I may have myself locked in this never-ending cycle of comparison, but you should never consider yourself lower than anyone else.
It's great to have value for others, but have some for yourself. Never leap bounds when they never glance your way, regardless of much you like them. I've spent countless time and money appeasing my betters just so I could stay close to them, only to hear of the shit they talk behind my back, and their laughter at my ineptitude.
Don't ever let yourself fall that far, or people will treat you lower than themselves. Carry yourself with confidence, even if nothing special lies inside, because the alternative is so much worse. Loneliness is painful, but to be alone in the company of others is death.
Never derive value from others, instead, always value yourself. I'll never be able to do so no matter how many times I try, but maybe, you can break out of this god-forsaken cycle.
~B_25~
I'd upvote your blog if I could, yo.
Sigh.
Amen, man. That's a lesson we can all stand to learn.
pepsi is the only true friend
At the end, the only person you can really trust is you.
I know that feel bro
There is no comment that would be helpful in any way that I could give. I am curious though, so if it doesn't bother you to tell: Do you by now know what has become of Abby? Or do I just not understand the blog?