Then I leave home, go to school without no expectation. But when I
walk in, I feel like everybody’s looking at me. Is there something wrong with
my hair? Or my face? Am I that ugly or am I that weird? How do I look today? My
shirt, my pants, my shoes, are they fashionable enough for the society? Then suddenly
I feel everyone’s talking about me. Is it the way I walk? Or maybe the gossip they’ve
heard the day before? My heart’s pounding, hands are trembling. Everything becomes
blurry. Calm down, I say to myself. Don’t look like a fool. Don’t let them see
you get nervous.
And I finally reach the class. Everything’s okay. Until I talk
to someone, and I keep thinking am I too expressive when I talk? How does my
face look like when I laugh? Is my sound too loud when I talk? My eyes are
wandering, don’t have enough courage to look them into the eyes. It makes me
look freak, doesn’t it? Are there inappropriate words that I say
unconsciously?
I get home in the evening and finally relax. I smile, I watch
television, I listen to the music and dance to the rhythm. Everything’s okay
until I have to send a message to my friends about a group assignment. 5
minutes. 10 minutes. They don’t reply. They don’t like me, do they? Do I annoy
them with sending them text? But no. Maybe they have another activity so they
don’t check their phone. Hey, but they updated their stories at social media! They’re
having fun, while here I’m trying to do the group assignment. I send another
text. No, why am I texting them more than once? Is it too much? I pissed them off,
do I? I take a pill of fluoxetine, and finally the voices in my head stop for a
while.
I can’t sleep at night. I’m so tired, so exhausted. I need
to sleep, but why can’t I? Why is everything so heavy for me? Who am I? What’s
my life purpose, or do I even have one? Being alive hurts too much. I’m just a burden for everyone. I can’t do anything. I’m not
clever enough, not good enough, not pretty enough, not skinny enough. No talents,
no future. Everybody hates me. My existence would make no difference. Will I get
married someday? But I’m afraid of marriage. And if I do, will my husband cheats
on me? Will I die young? By suicide, or by illness? Look at those scars. Disgusting,
aren’t they? And so I am.
My mind is like a never ending train. There’s no time to
stop. My diesel has run out, but still, it won’t stop. I tell it to stop, but
the brake has been broken. It eats my soul, my energy, my life as it forces
to keep going. I don’t know how long I can hold on. Maybe I need to kill myself
soon. Because to stop this never ending train in my head, I have to break the
engine.
