Why is this guy so tall? Why can he play basketball? Why don’t any of the girls like me, and why do so many seem to like him? Is my puberty ending before it even started? Am I never going to get a chance to fall in love in this lifetime?
Honestly, I hate this feeling—a kind of sixth sense that something bad is coming, something unknown, about to spiral out of control. The alarm in my head goes off immediately. I find it strange—how is everyone so relaxed, with time to think about all this nonsense? Must be nice. I don’t want to be here another day.
History, geography, literature, biology, chemistry—what am I even learning? Why am I learning any of this? Maybe they think if they force-feed me their so-called “truths”—fragmented, one-sided, out-of-context bits of information—I’ll turn into some mindless machine. Unfortunately for them, I’ve never been able to remember things that don’t make sense, that don’t hold up, that go against what I personally feel and perceive.
In my world, what I feel matters most. What I want to do—I should be the one to decide. What I believe in—I don’t need anyone else to tell me. I wasn’t asking for your opinion, I was just sharing. If you want to stay, stay. If you want to leave, go. That’s always been how I see things.
