13 Reasons – The Other Kids
I’m A Loser
By: The Beatles
I’m a loser
I’m a loser
And I’m not what I appear to be
Of all the love I have won or have lost
there is one love I should never have crossed
She was a girl in a million, my friend
I should have known she would win in the end
I’m a loser
And I lost someone who’s near to me
I’m a loser
And I’m not what I appear to be
Although I laugh and I act like a clown
Beneath this mask I am wearing a frown
My tears are falling like rain from the sky
Is it for her or myself that I cry
I’m a loser
And I lost someone who’s near to me
I’m a loser
And I’m not what I appear to be
What have I done to deserve such a fate
I realize I have left it too late
And so it’s true, pride comes before a fall
I’m telling you so that you won’t lose all
I’m a loser
And I lost someone who’s near to me
I’m a loser
And I’m not what I appear to be
When I was young, the only wish I had, besides the standard Disney-oriented belief that I would one day find my Prince Charming, was to be pretty, thin, and popular. I know now that while I wouldn’t pass for gorgeous, I’m not ugly. But back then . . .
Those kids made fun of everything about me. I wore a shirt that had Belle from Beauty and the Beast on it and they insulted me, saying stuff about how why was I wearing that? Did I think I looked even hafl that good? When we’d go outside for recess, the kids who could run faster would deliberately beat me to the box of kickballs and jump ropes that were brought outside just so I couldn’t use them. When we’d stay inside, they’d draw pictures of this huge girl that was supposed to be me, next to all the ‘normal looking’ people, and leave them on my desk
I hated voluteering in class after awhile, because one guy in particular would take anything I said and make fun of how I said it. Not even if I was right or wrong, just how I said certain words. And of course, the teacher would never hear him because he sat further back than I did and was always saying these things under his breath.
It didn’t matter what I did. They made fun of my clothes, my hair, my face, my body, my family, my house, everything. And what they didn’t make fun of, they stole. I had a purse I carried around for a bit in fifth grade. It had all of my nail polish and stuff like that in it, and it made me feel a bit cooler that I was carrying around make up with me in fifth grade. Well, that purse got stolen and whoever stole it smashed every single bottle of nail polish. I did get the purse back several days later, and all it had in it was a scrunchie.
In middle school, during sixth grade, my locker was constantly getting broken into. I’d come from class and see the locker door hanging open.
I hated those years, for the most part. I do remember good teachers, and liking some of the classes. (I also remember hating some teachers with a fiery passion.)
Kids never realize how cruel they’re being, people always say. Yet I wonder if that’s actually the case. I wonder how many people knew exactly how much they were hurting me, decided to tease and insult and degrade me just because they knew they could and they wanted to.
Because you know those school shootings that have been happening over the recent years? Well, in a way, I feel bad for the shooters. Because as far as everyone interviewed has said, the ones who ended up doing those things were ones made fun of, who probably went through the same if not worse treatment than I did. That doesn’t give them an excuse to go and do something like a school shooting, but they probably couldn’t take it anymore, and decided they wanted to get back at anyone who ever hurt them. And they couldn’t hurt those other kids or teachers emotionally, so what else was there? Physically.
I’m not condoning what the shooters did by any means. I’m just saying there was a reason for their actions. Some people may say it’s not a good reason, but you know what? That’s not entirely true, either. People who signed my high school year books would say how even though I was made fun of, I was still so nice and never said anything bad about anyone else. And I couldn’t help inwardly laughing and thinking to myself, ‘If you could read my mind, you wouldn’t be saying that…’