I just finished high school. For years I kept telling myself that once it was over, I’d finally be free from the constant mental torture and the classrooms filled with idiots who only knew how to laugh at people like me. No more exams, no more having to breathe the same air as those walking garbage bins who called themselves my classmates. But guess what? Nothing changed. Absolutely nothing. I still hate myself. I still feel like a freak for never having lived, never having touched, kissed, loved, or even truly spoken to anyone without feeling like a burden or a joke. That sense of rot inside me Is still here. The emptiness is worse than ever. And the worst part? I graduated with a higher score than some of the pieces of shit who made my life hell. And yet here I am, locked in my room, wasting away, while they’re out there living, fucking, laughing, adding memories to their perfect little teenager years. People tell me I should be proud. Proud of what? Beating a bunch of braindead normies at some meaningless test? What does that give me? They get the world handed to them, no matter how dumb or cruel they are.
