Dear Friend 21

Dear Friend,

My plan for tomorrow

Econs
Chem
Math
English

I feel odd, I feel displaced. A weird sense of melancholy. Writing those letters felt good, only because I felt good about myself. But when I am physically, with my friends in person, I often feel a sense of disconnect. I sometimes feel like an outsider. And perhaps I am.

Ultimately, I am a forgettable character. I keep things to myself, and though I often fantasise of the wisdom I can impart to others, the intimate revelations and confidences of friends elude me. The only time, I gave sound advice, was to a friend I barely knew. Maybe I can only offer good advice by coincidence.

I guess, while writing those letters, I hoped that someone would notice how lonely I feel. I hoped that someone would see, beyond the ugly genetic construct of an asymmetrical face, that the perceptive me needed company. I have always, almost always, no, maybe just always, or perhaps, almost always, in any case I'm not sure, kept my truest emotions to myself.

 These days I just seem happy and content, but I feel a deep sense of idleness that compels me to be easily distracted. I will shrug that off tomorrow. My parents never understood why I barely spoke to them for those two weeks. It wasn't because of the stress. It was because, or shall I say, it is because of their insensitivity.

At the time when all I wanted to do was to focus, intently, she kept distracting me with other mundane things. I tried to stay calm, but showed obvious and visible signs of anger. Finally when she noticed, I said I was becoming crazy. And it was true. I had so much angst within me. I was unhappy that she was inconsiderate, and sad at the fact that for a long time, I haven't done anything intellectually stimulating that resonated with a sense of "passion" within me. I was drifting through life, unhappily, and I constantly feel lonely despite the good friends I have. And with the revelation that I was becoming crazy, all she said was to ask me to not be crazy. It may be presumptuous of me to blame her, but it is exactly how I feel. In this home, I cannot have an intellectual discussion. It may sound arrogant, but I can hardly talk to shallow people whom I respect. Maybe I will find myself repulsive for writing this now, but at least it is the truth. I just cannot speak to them about things I felt interested in. Sometimes they would listen, but their comments are rarely interesting. There is no sense of critical judgement.

I was on the verge of being crazy, I was becoming violent, I felt the strong urge to punch and violently beat something, or someone up. She was oblivious to that, and that I can't blame her. And so I ran down to the park, ran while crying, and after a while I sat down on the bench, crying. I don't know why I cried. I had no one to confide in, so I had to stay strong. I cried in a sad way, and I felt like shit. I felt horrible. I don't have an explanation for that, all I could say, is that I returned home with my tears dry with resentment. I realised that I had nothing to speak to them about. They were boring. And then they blamed me for being a recluse, but I really couldn't be bothered. I just had nothing to say, and she became angry with me. And yesterday she thought the happy me came back, it was just nonsense. I don't feel particularly happy or sad, just bored of my life. Bored of anything really. To put it bluntly, they are stupid people, and I worse flaws than them.

I just feel so much angst now. I could leave the world and nobody would care, at all. I think I repel people all the time, and even my closest friends wouldn't divulge their emotions to me. I guess I will be a loner forever.

Regards,
The Retard.