God is a shallow little bitch.

Speaking of shallow little bitches…I am one.  Maybe not shallow, but definately bitchy.  I tell myself it’s justified, that with my schedule it’s okay to be a little short, because I’m overworked.  I’m just malicious these days.

I don’t know why I want to hurt others so much.  I seek it out actively.  I force myself into civility for those who expect it, for those who actually DESERVE it, but for everyone else, sarcasm dominates my language.  I want them to hurt.  I want them to realize how stupid, and ugly, and shallow, and pathetic they are.  I want them to know everything I know.

How have I changed?  I don’t know if I have.  I feel different.  I feel uncomfortable in my skin.  I used to be so at ease with myself.  This is who I am, this is what I do.  Now, I know who I am, but I don’t know what to do.  I do it all wrong.  It’s all wrong.  Everything I do is so uncharacteristic.  It makes me uncomfortable.  I know it’s wrong but I can’t fix it, I don’t know how.  It was never like this before.

I lack self-confidence.  They tell me I’m gifted.  I don’t believe them.  I think I annoy everyone around me, with my “perfectionism.”  I think I’m a failure.  “And how is this going to be different from any OTHER ‘A’ you’ve ever gotten?”  I don’t know, I just wish I would fail so I would know that I was right.  So I knew that I COULD.  I wish I knew what failure felt like.  I have strong suspicions that I am a complete, utter loser, that I can do nothing right.  Everything about me is flawed.  I think that.  Then why do people still talk to me?  Laugh with me?  Seemingly enjoy my company?  I don’t understand. 

Apparently people would “kill” to have what I have.  What do I have?  Intelligence.  That’s it.  To some, that’s all you need.  But I know that’s not true.  You need heart and soul.  You need friends and family.  You need love.  I have no heart.  I have no friends.  I have no love.  No one could ever love me.  I don’t expect them to–how could I, when I can’t love them back?  I’m so afraid or being hurt or rejected.  I AM AFRAID OF REJECTION.  No one would expect that of me.  I seem so cocky and arrogant.  So sure of myself.  I only do that so I can feel in control of a relationship.  So maybe, if I am rejected, it won’t hurt as much.

But it always hurts.  It has always hurt.  It doesn’t as much, now, but when I was younger it stabbed at me every time my peers laughed at me for being a fat freak.  Do they still laugh at me?   I don’t know.   I would assume so, I haven’t changed.  I doubt they have.  It’s so easy to ignore most of the time.  Sometimes, though, like tonight, I just realize how flawed my existence has been.  The mistakes are unforgivable.  Everything I could have done better…why didn’t I?

Why didn’t I?