I Hate My Life - The Feeling of Rejection
I woke up on the bathroom floor again. All my friends had to leave because they couldn't get in and I was alone again. "I hate my life," I thought. I had for a long time. As far back as I can remember all I wanted was to be loved and accepted. Instead, I was ridiculed and put down for my looks and my so called "lack of brain power." I ended up with no personality, nothing that would cause anyone to want to spend time with me.
I Hate My Life - Yearning for Love and Acceptance
How did I get here? Even when I was little, I didn't fit in. I wasn't pretty, I was too tall, and at one point a little behind all my classmates in a new school. That new school was where I first experienced the rejection that would scar me for life. When I had to go into a different school the next year, I just knew no one would like me, so I acted out. I rejected them before they could reject me. I just wanted to disappear off the face of the earth but life kept happening, and I was a very unwilling participant.
Junior High came and I wanted to go into my new school incognito. But that year I spent too much time at the pool and ended up with green hair. I'm sure you can imagine what the tallest person in the class who just happened to have green hair was called. It was another reason to crawl in a hole and hide. That's just what I wanted to do the rest of Junior High and High School - hide.
All of this time, my heart was crying out to be loved and accepted, but there was no way I was going to believe that I ever would be. No one seemed to care if I was even alive other than my family and sometimes I even wondered about them.
I Hate My Life - Collegiate Mistakes
After High School, my parents told me I was going to go to college. By this time, I was a super non-achiever and definitely did not want to go to college. I had no choice but to go, but for the first time in my life I set a goal for myself. I was going to be accepted and popular. I didn't know how I was going to meet that goal, but who cared? As it turned out, I became well known, but not necessarily popular.
As I grew up my parents would have their little parties on Saturday nights and go to church on Sundays. I couldn't handle that and I grew to hate drinking and anyone who drank. Well, that all changed in college. During the fall of my first year, a popular guy asked a friend and me to go to a bar with him and some other friends. I did not want to go, but decided that was a way of getting to know people. My plan was to have a coke and let them drink what they wanted, but their plan was to get this little and naive freshman drunk. They succeeded and I lost, literally. I wish I could say that I was in control, but from that night on, alcohol took over. I was hooked! For the first time in my life I could talk to guys and feel like I could be a part of the group. I could hardly wait for the next party to get drunk and have fun.
Later that fall, I went out with a good looking guy that was a few years older than me. I was very flattered that he would want to take me out, but I wouldn't have been if I would have known what he planned. That night he had sex with me and I became his special little play thing if his girlfriend was unavailable. I soon found out that the only way I was going to get invited anywhere was to give the guy what he wanted. I ended up hating men and myself. By the time college was out, I prided myself in being the biggest lush and slut on campus. That's something to be proud of, huh?
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