Well, hello, all. First post ever here. Whoop-di-doo. Anyways, getting down to it: I feel alone and out of place. I always have, since I was about four or five. I remember reading during recess because no one wanted to play with me (that sucked). I remember thinking the characters in books were real and my best friends. I still most closely identify with television characters I see every week. They make me feel at home, with my friends, who laugh and crack jokes and think the way I do. They accept unconditionally. Waiting or that twenty-two minutes once a week is the highlight of my life. Sad, isn't it? Beyond that, I'm a high achiever - (I'm in the high of schools) 4.0 GPA. AP classes. Summer courses at Ivy Leaguers. Editor of school paper. Volunteer for the needy. Spreading environmental conservation messages. And I hate it, all of it. I care about grades because my parents chewed me out over anything less than perfect when I was younger and am still stuck in that mindset. I volunteer because it'll look good on my college applications, despite not knowing what I want to do or where I want to go. Because I don't want to go to college. I have no friends. I can talk to people, I have a reasonalby good sense of humour and can keep up a conversation, but I'm just not well liked - my own fault, I'm sure, for being a snide jackass who can't help but subtly insult people at every turn and hates everything and everyone. The only person I ever really felt closer was a teacher of mine who thought I had some ability in writing and actually wanted to foster that, depsite never taking a class from him. We would talk about music and flim and poetry. I felt like a person for once. I looked forward to seeing him everyday and made a point to find some reason to stop by his classroom. Two weeks before the last school term ended, he was fired for no reason whatsoever. He still lives in the city. I have his email address and know his wife. I can't being myself to contact him. I just want to say goodbye becuase I didn't get the chance. This was on the heels of my "recovery" from a ninemonth bout of anorexia/bulimia, anxiety and depressive disorders. The universe was clearly sending a message fo "Go fuck yourself. You know that one thing you cared about, actually getting to learn something from an intelligent mentor who takes an interest in his students and might actually pique your interest academically? NAHNAHNAHNAHNAHNAHyoucan'thaveit." No one knows this. My therapist thinks I'm fine. I've tried to communicate how I feel, it's not coming across. My parents are too busy with work, my sickly brother, and trying to keep me at least physically intact. Like I said, I have no friends my own age. I feel so alone, and the worst part is I know deep down I'm meant to be somewhere far away from here, and I don't know why but I know the place for me. Say it's delusional, go ahead, everyone does, but for years I've known exactly where I'm meant to be. No one listens. I am Girl X, the bitchy one in the corner, moping and complaining about everyone and everything, going on and on about how her favorite TV show will probably be cancelled this season, and periodically breaking down crying in the middle of class, whilst trying to hide behind a textbook. Thanks, world. Thanks me. I hope you both die slowly and painfully.