What It's Like to be a Side Character

People say that time is everything's worst enemy. Ha, no. I object, my greatest enemy is statistics. It's why some dude just drowned in a puddle, why a whole lot of people just went insane, and why I was born a side character in my own story. You probably don't understand. How could you? Everyone has something, you might think. But if you think about it in a statistical way, someone out there definitely is a side character. And that someone is me. Maybe there's someone else out there. They might be the only one who could understand, but I wouldn't want that because than they'd have to live through this too.

I've never said what I meant. Never did what I wanted. My favorite color was never pink, I loved blue. I didn't want to take ballet, I wanted to learn street dancing. Why did I say I loved Sunny D? It was artificial, too orange, and it stung my throat. Yet, I never thought anything of it. I had a sort of mental block that didn't allow me to think. I was stuck in this twisted version of myself that didn't realize what it was missing. A side character. Annoyingly confident, adorned with pink, with a sweet tooth that could never be satisfied. Do you know what I thought I wanted to be? A princess. A goddamn princess. For many years this continued.

Then I moved to another place. It was around then that I started realizing what I didn't have. I looked around me. No friends. Yes, people were nice to me, but as I looked closer they only did so out of manners. Many absolutely hated me. I couldn't blame them. I then saw how poor my thinking skills, creativity and a whole lot of other things were when compared to my classmates. As time passed I grew more and more aggressive and irritable. Why was I the only one who didn't have anything? Why could the mean popular girls that didn't study always get an A+? Why could the guy who treated everyone terribly still be loved by them? Yet still I could never be who I was. Still I couldn't realize.

My grades were average, always on the line of being terrible. The only reason I could stay afloat was because of homework grades. Homework you could always get a 100 on, all you needed to do was bring it in on time and complete. My speed wasn't very fast, but it was fast enough to keep me with everyone else. My strength was terrible, yet because of my aggressive aura people thought I was strong. Endurance? Please. One second of running and I'd be out of breath. I had no creativity. A steady hand was something I would never achieve. Ideas were simple and never came easy.

Have you ever done this? Stop and tread water while swimming to take a break, trying to catch your breath? You think your head is just high enough to avoid swallowing any chlorine, but the slightest ripple pushes wave after wave into your mouth. You sputter and cough, and you can't. Breathe. But others brush it off. They've seen you swim, you could get back up. But you're just so tired from swimming so rigorously that it takes great strength to get back up. But no one can see that. All they see is you being dramatic. Chances are, you get back up. But first, you sink. After, your throat burns, and there's a nasty aftertaste in you mouth. For the rest of the day, you're just absolutely depressed and you can't comprehend why. That's the situation I feel I'm stuck in, but this time, there's an invisible chain linking me to the bottom.

With all the frustration, loneliness, and confusion, I slowly grew depressed. Yet even my depression was that of a side character's. I never tried to cut, too afraid of scars and someone finding out. I was also very afraid of pain. My pain tolerance was non-existent, the smallest bruise made me cry out. Instead of cutting, I would dig my nails into my skin, never deep enough to leave indents and risk discovery. Every time there was an opportunity, I thought about suicide. But I knew I would never do it, because I was too afraid. That's me. Always decent enough so people didn't understand, but terrible enough to spark this. I knew people had it much worse than me. But I couldn't change. My depression affected everything I did. No longer did I have that fake confidence. Every thing I did I doubted. Every second I was alone I downgraded myself. My performance in everything dropped lower still. Yet still not low enough.

It was then that I met someone who would change my life. A nameless senior, tall and kind, who would talk to me whenever we encountered each other. Which was a lot. You'd be amazed how much little interactions with the people you even slightly like can brighten one's day. A smile could fuel me for a week. Slowly, I gained the ability to think and do what I wanted. Sometimes I still went back to being someone else, but it was progress. Yet still, I could not shake off my depression. They would graduate soon. Even if they were in my grade, I knew it was hard to keep in contact with friends after graduation. What would come after graduation, anyway? I had nothing to offer to any college. I had no skill, talent or interest in anything. Except for listening to music, but that's not a job. And I wasn't very good at it, I had realized after taking Music Theory. I was outshined by everyone.

Maybe now you have more of an understanding of me and maybe people like me if there are more people like me. If not, that's fine. Ignore this story. Pretend you never read it. But maybe smile a bit more, because you never know who you might be giving the strength to finish the day.