I guess it’s just not about being weird. It’s not just about my looks. I guess I was cursed. Perhaps I’m not a human being. Maybe I’m not of this world.

I just can’t help but pour out my lamentations on my poor grubby pillow, for I am not just often offended by people around me; but an essay type of confrontation about an offense that I unintentionally did just crushed my heart into pieces and left me feeling ashamed of myself. I just don’t think that I can still afford to live in this world anymore. I took a giant leap by trying to live in a place which is culturally different from my hometown, and I reckon that it’s also a big mistake. I am different enough in my own city, and it was a fool of me to challenge myself to fit in a place where I really don’t fit in. I’d like to get rid of my heart for it aches so. It was like a very big REJECTION was slapped on my face that I couldn’t help but weep.

It hurts how people judge you first by the way you look. I have this serious face and I always put on a natural pokerface whenever I really don’t have something to smile or laugh at. However, I, being timid by nature, was always labeled as icy and snobbish – even though my intentions are good. It hurts that I am just trying to adjust myself in this unfamiliar society and I scarcely interact with people because I barely know them but it seems like Satan whispered to every ear that I am a hateful person and they should hate me. It hurts that when I finally warm up to someone, they’d still be quick to spot flaws on me because their first impression of me hasn’t been forgotten.

It hurts how people label me as weird. It is quite unfair, for I believe that every person has their own unique traits. That “weird” label of me seems like a barrier between me and them, which was put by them, not me. That “weird” label affects their interaction with me, and makes me aloof to them in return, because of the hurt that I feel. It hurts that when I try to be finally friendly, people still say “How weird,” behind my back. I am also a human being, and I am a girl: what’s the big difference between me and them?

Like every other person, I also want to be loved and accepted; but it hurts that even though I am not trying hard to please people and desperately want them to like me, I unjustly get scorn in return. I really wanted a peaceful life, but life blesses me with foes of which I really didn’t ask for. It hurts that when I just wanted a simple life like those of the settings in children’s literature where I could just frolic and say “Tralalalala,” my life is being turned into a tragic one, wherein the hero experiences too much devastation that he may even think of getting revenge. But no, I am not a vengeful person, and I was not taught to be like that. It’s very hard to try to live in an environment wherein people don’t like you, but still you ought to live with them because you have no other option.

Now you may think that I am exaggerating this trial that I am going through or that I am just overreacting just like any of the naturally emotional women. Actually, I heard my mother despise me when I was just on the innocent age of three, when she and my drunken father were fighting. I was peeping and eavesdropping, but it was worthless for the voices were too loud. “Maghiwalay na tayo! Akin si Camille, sayo si Thea! Bagay kayong magsama! Umalis kayo dito!” were the words that were engraved in my naïve mind, and cannot be forgotten until now. I never could really understand why that is so. Perhaps my little sister was cute, and I was not. I was just a quiet little girl then and that was the first sign of rejection slapped at my face. It hurts more when the people you love do this to you. Then, when I was kindergarten, I was always bullied, and I still don’t know why. I thought that maybe I was ugly, or maybe it’s because of my unbecoming hairstyle which was the same as Dora’s. But it’s unfair that Satan already whispered to the ears of the children that they should hate me when I was still little and helpless at that time. I never said a word. I never took revenge. Even my teachers were not acknowledging my voice when I timidly tried to report the bullies. I was alone.

It’s hard to be unaccepted by the society. It hurts so much especially when you’re rejected face to face. I cannot do anything but just break down and cry silently and hidden from everyone on one dark corner of my room when everyone is asleep. Sometimes I just think that I still have the angels in heaven, my guardian angel beside me, and Jesus who love me for who I am. However, since my soul is still one with my flesh, and it’s still a long way before I reach the Celestial City, I’d still feel unloved for the thought of having only invisible beings to love me is pathetic.


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