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I swiftly rotated the cold, plastic knob beneath my sweaty palms and pressed open the door leading to the room. An empty chair, a hand drawn painting, and a blank expression stared back at me, as I prudently closed the door behind me. I quickly took a seat, avoiding the commonly heard "have a seat" introduction. The seat's dim olive green cushion felt rigid and unwelcoming, and I could feel my stomach churning in protest. I hesitated, pondering whether it was too late to bolt out the door, and claim to have entered the wrong room, but I knew I would never be capable of pulling off such a devious hoax. My muscles stiffened under the tension, and I knew that if I was unable to motivate myself to begin shortly, then I'd probably end up leaving the room unsaid. Avoiding the perplexed gaze that was following me, I fixed my eyes on the whole in the wall diagonal from my position, inhaled a deep breath, and began;
April eleventh is acknowledged as a day to celebrate diversity or take a stand against bullying, and to do so wearing pink is encouraged. On that given date, I chose to wear pink; I smiled during the speech, applauded afterwards, and looked around at the neon pink, cherry, crimson, and other shades of pink clothing that overflowed the gymnasium. I wasn't exactly processing the speech properly though, because I was more preoccupied with questioning my behavior in the last couple of months, and the results were beyond displeasing.
I don't recall the exact date I became so intolerant, but I am aware that it happened near the beginning of February. I wasn't sure of how to react to a recurring issue, and I had been robbed of my once successful comfort device. Furthermore, my emotions began to twist and transform until they finally settled and became hatred. Ultimately, my way to manage was by pushing the significant guilt on someone else's shoulders and making them undergo my pain. Unfortunately, that chosen person was you.
It's almost as if I forgot you are already familiar with pain, I was solely focused on making you understand but not verbally explaining the story to you. I didn't recognize it back in February, but I had made it my personal mission to ignore you, to make you feel the sting of insignificance and repent that I had previously endured. During those times, I was often laughing, but I was never content. I would often doze out of becoming depressed and questioning myself, and then slide back into the rude, arrogant shadow. I didn't realize when you became insufficient, but soon enough, I had a new goal; to truly be at ease. I thought by laughing continuously at the smallest, most tedious things, I could deceive myself into believing I was happy, and then I would actually become that person. That never worked though, and in the process, I've fallen behind in schoolwork, continuously lied to myself and friends, and caused some people who thought they knew me to raise their eyebrows in confusion.
When the goal didn't work, I would begin to flare up, and all that anger for some reason, was sent spiraling in your direction. I didn't feel "big" or "superior" when I behaved like this, in fact, I saw myself as the opposite, but I felt the need to continue these atrocious activities. I was being filthy, disgusting, repulsive, unbearable, and every other word that defines an idiot, but is not within my vocabulary. I don't want to be the person I've become, and I certainly wish I could replay the last three months of my life. Perhaps it's about time to admit that I don't hate you, but I hate myself. Maybe it's time to admit that you were the good person all along, and I should've realized earlier that it was entirely my fault. The attitude I gave you was completely unacceptable, and you should've never had to deal with it. I feel more regretful than words can explain. I don't know whether you'll truly care about what I've said or whether you'll shrug it off, but I am truly sorry for everything, I really am.
The room was spinning viciously in my mind, as it usually did. I arose from my seat; I didn't want to hear a sugar-coated version of the truth, or angry words spiraling out at me. My eyes left the floor and stared at the face sitting in front of me, it remained impassive, clearly not amused by what I had admitted. I hadn't expected much more to come out of this confession. A click sounded as I turned the knob, exiting the small room, and escaping all the horrific memories. Perhaps now, I'll no longer have to pretend, or be frightened of past mistakes. "The value of M is still undetermined," I whispered beneath my breath, "but one day, it will be."
Author's Note: I've erased and rewrote this piece countless times, but I doubt I've accomplished anything more than making the story a substantial amount shorter. In the last couple of months, many changes have been made, and it seemed like BBS and "The Times" were the only places that kept let me be myself. I'd like to thank every member of the BBS and give a special thanks to AMae, Melanie, Monet, and Jackie for making me smile, even if they hadn't noticed it. BBS is what made me get through a lot of those rough days, thanks guys.
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