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“Your childhood years are the best of your life” they say. If that’s the case then I might as well end it now. Only people who had happy childhoods say that. Those who run around the field playing football and rugby, those who have childhood sweethearts – I haven’t even had my first kiss. “You’re 16 John, grow up, for God’s sake” God has nothing to do with this, I tried talking to him but he didn’t listen. I gave up hope of a greater power long ago.
I can’t remember the last person I talked to besides my mother and my teachers. The other kids don’t seem to want to know me. I never did anything to them, always kept myself to myself. I sit at the front in classes whilst all the popular people sit at the back. The hurl paper balls sometimes but I don’t retaliate. “Just let it go John, it’s not worth getting worked up about” my counsellor told me. They didn’t make me go to a counsellor, I chose to. She’s the only one who listens to me. My mother cares but she doesn’t have time for me. She’ll ask how my day was and I will tell her “fine”. I don’t want to tell her what really happens, she’d only get upset.
When I talk to my teachers about my problems I get the feeling they’re laughing at me from behind their perfectly polished Gucci glasses. Shouting out deep inside “LOSER, LOSER!” I confide in them about my lack of friends, my inability to talk to girls and the anger I feel inside. “Aww, he’s being bullied” they coo, as if I am just another generic social misfit. NO. I’m not just another pity case, I won’t just go away if you douse me in your sympathy and blanket with your “it’ll be ok” comments.
I’m the kid in the school photograph who’s name nobody knows. Not significant enough to remember. I didn’t play for any sports teams or win any awards for my intellect. I haven’t made any ‘friends for life’ or even been on a ‘date’. I fill my mobile’s phonebook with fake numbers and fictitious names, just in case my mum ever gets suspicious. I’m frightened she’ll know the truth; I’m a loner. Admitting it is the hardest part, my counsellor says. But the future doesn’t look too bad now. I have someone to talk to, I understand myself, I accept who I am.
“Your childhood years are the best of your life” they say, I disagree.
I can’t remember the last person I talked to besides my mother and my teachers. The other kids don’t seem to want to know me. I never did anything to them, always kept myself to myself. I sit at the front in classes whilst all the popular people sit at the back. The hurl paper balls sometimes but I don’t retaliate. “Just let it go John, it’s not worth getting worked up about” my counsellor told me. They didn’t make me go to a counsellor, I chose to. She’s the only one who listens to me. My mother cares but she doesn’t have time for me. She’ll ask how my day was and I will tell her “fine”. I don’t want to tell her what really happens, she’d only get upset.
When I talk to my teachers about my problems I get the feeling they’re laughing at me from behind their perfectly polished Gucci glasses. Shouting out deep inside “LOSER, LOSER!” I confide in them about my lack of friends, my inability to talk to girls and the anger I feel inside. “Aww, he’s being bullied” they coo, as if I am just another generic social misfit. NO. I’m not just another pity case, I won’t just go away if you douse me in your sympathy and blanket with your “it’ll be ok” comments.
I’m the kid in the school photograph who’s name nobody knows. Not significant enough to remember. I didn’t play for any sports teams or win any awards for my intellect. I haven’t made any ‘friends for life’ or even been on a ‘date’. I fill my mobile’s phonebook with fake numbers and fictitious names, just in case my mum ever gets suspicious. I’m frightened she’ll know the truth; I’m a loner. Admitting it is the hardest part, my counsellor says. But the future doesn’t look too bad now. I have someone to talk to, I understand myself, I accept who I am.
“Your childhood years are the best of your life” they say, I disagree.
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Cool nic story
It's a good thing. Shows your writing well :).
There is always someone who thinks I am being serious. *sigh*
*jury gasps*
Your honour I am here today to sue Mr. Tribute on the grounds that he in his 16 years of existence has not used his full potential to gain a full on snog with a female!
i'm 16 and have barely been kissed.
so sue me
so sue me
Plus I think people should put "STORY" or something. Because I am tired and ill and not very clever at this moment.
Like Batehoven!
You could tell from Paradox's last post in General chat talking about his fcuk buddy. The fact this post starts by saying he has never been kissed before kind of takes the way the impression that it's real. Wow my deductive powers are great, I should fight crime.
[IS DEAD, THANKS.]
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