“Do you know pain?” I look at the sky, and I can’t recall what I was thinking, but those were the words that I said. Those were the words that I believed. For some reason, my mind raced faster than the cars on the highway. I couldn’t understand anything anymore. My life around me feels like it’s falling apart, and I don’t know what’s going on. Who am I?
Was I ever human? Did I ever eat? Did I ever think? Did I ever exist? Can I even see? I watch the truck pass by, and still, no words have entered my head except words that show me that I am completely clueless.
Then it hits me, and my head begins to feel a tingling—a sting, a stab, a deep, deep pain—as I recall my memories.
I used to be at the bottom. I used to have no friends. I was bullied. I used to have nothing. I was nothing—but that’s what I thought. That’s what I have always thought, but I realized something later on when I grew up. Then I reached the top. I had friends. I became the bully. Everything was mine, and you would think I was at least something, but every day, I was forced to realize, I am still nothing. Being at the top was terrible. I realized it was full of nothingness. The top consisted of no people—it was full of gossip and rumors that hurt some people and benefitted others. My friends hurt others, and they expected me to do the same. I began to hurt people when I became the bully. I hurt those that I didn’t want to ever hurt. I had never dreamt of hurting them. My grades fell with my pride. The top, the friends, the bully, the everything—was worth less than what I used to be. Only sadness and depression struck me, and I hid it with fake smiles.
I stepped down from the top—I stepped down my golden throne. I lost my friends in the process in order to make a real friend—one who cared about me. I stopped bullying, and I befriended my victim. I gave up everything I had left to give away. My grades soared as did my friendships and my happiness. I was happy for the first time in my life. I was no longer bullied—but respected. No one dared to harm me, but they would harm those close to me.
I am silent for a reason. I do not talk for a reason. All that I do has a reason—a purpose—that no one so ingenious ever thought of. I never spoke a word to anyone to find out who was kind. It was through this purpose that I was able to eliminate potential threats in my life—to eliminate all the negative influences and the negativity around them. I swore silence to become weak, even though I am strong. I put on my disguise, and no one ever saw through to it except a chosen few. I was a rich person clad in rags, swimming in the dumpster to find bottles to cash in. I watched and observed anyone and everyone who came close to me.
I am quiet for a reason, and only a chosen few have seen past my disguise. The top was worse than the bottom since it was lonely. Having one true friend was better than having several superficial ones. Being the bully was not as fun as being the victim. Having nothing was worth more than having everything. Pain is in our lives—forever, it seems—but there are ways to cope through it, and it makes you stronger.
I was thinking about this when I was in the bus a couple months ago. Reading through it, I realized it was pretty depressing until somewhere near the end. I was really going through a slump back then, but as you can see at the end, I recovered.