Me. Myself. I. | Teen Ink

Me. Myself. I.

January 30, 2010
By KevinS BRONZE, Preston, Connecticut
KevinS BRONZE, Preston, Connecticut
3 articles 7 photos 3 comments

Favorite Quote:
"Abashed, the devil stood, and saw how awful goodness is." -The Crow

I am a human being. I am a normal, everyday person, contrary to popular belief. I am universally hated by the people who think I am wierd, which is everyone. I don't care. I see people look at me every day as if I were just a bothersome ant that they wish they could step on. I can hear them laughing to themselves, talking about me behind my back. I don't think they care if I hear them. I have come to expect people to give me a hard time. I always expect the worst so I will always be pleasantly suprised. I realize that to most of my classmates, I am nothing more than a nuisance, a worthless, annoying waste of skin and bone and oxygen. I suddenly wish I was somewhere else, away from this horrible place, away from their stares and rolling eyes. I know that they all think of me the same way. I am aware of what a nuisance I am, how I annoy them. I am hurt by their comments nonetheless. I feel my face turning red and I sink into my chair. I feel like an oddity, like I don't belong here, and I am relieved when the bell rings. I get on my bus and I am greeted by more stares, more glaring eyes. I am aware that no one wants me to sit with them, and so I sit alone. I am alone. I arrive at my house and as I walk to the front of my bus, I trip and fall. I hear everyone laugh at me, save for the select few who feel sorry for me. I finally escape and enter my house, my only safe haven. I hear my dad call from the other room, "How was school?" I lie. "Good," I say. I do my homework, eat dinner, and go to my room. As I try to sleep, I tell myself that tomorrow will be a great day, though I know I am just lying to myself. I grab a picture of me and my friends that I took at my old school, back when people were able to tolerate me. I stare at the picture for a long time as I drift off to sleep. I wake up the next morning and watch the news. I find it simply amazing that people can see the death, poverty, and war that is happening all around them and are able to just turn away and ignore it. I feel grateful yet again. I could be homeless, hungry, or even terminally ill, but I am not. I think little of the insults I receive daily. I think that it is a blessing to be disliked. I realize that being hated by so many people has given me a new perspective on life, to look at the glass as half-full, as they say. I arrive at school and prepare myself for another day of hell. I begin to walk to my first class, and a boy twice my size stands in front of me. "This hallway is for straight guys only, queer." he says. "No homos allowed." I wince at his insults. "What makes you think that someone like you can walk the halls like normal people? You're worthless." I stare at him, as I feel a smile come over my face. "Thank you." I say, and I walk around him into my classroom, because although I am hurt by his comments, I know he is wrong. I am not worthless, but I don't think highly of myself, either. I am no less of a human being than anyone else, and I am not special or unique. I am grateful and proud to just be me. Myself. I.

The author's comments:
The poem was inspired by something that a boy said to me in the hallway at school, and I thought it would help people to not care what others think.

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