You never realize how strange you were as a child until you have the perspective of an adult. When I was five or six, my favorite books were encyclopedias, my mom’s college anatomy book, and the phone book. I didn’t necessarily read any of these books from cover to cover or understand all that the books talked about, but these were my favorite books. Then, when I was 9 or 10, I started having “secret government projects” as my parents called them. I would write things down in notebooks or on the computer and try to keep what I wrote down a secret from anyone else. One of the things that I used to work on was a plan to make Huntsville a larger city. I know that may not sound strange, but I would grab the real estate section of the paper, find all of the undeveloped land/commercial property listings, write them down, figure out how much acreage each had, and I would plan out the city. I planned for Huntsville to encompass all of North Alabama and parts of southern Tennessee. I had plans for houses, malls (the stores in the malls, included), theme parks (Disney, Six Flags, water park), etc. Huntsville was going to be the biggest city in all of the world, and it was all going to be thanks to me. Somehow, I thought making the city bigger would make me more important. I finally declassified this intel for my parents and told them the basics for this particular “project”. I thought what I was doing was normal when I was a kid, but now that I’m not a kid, it seems like I should’ve been more focused on things like playing or something. Of course, it did help expand my imagination. It also made sense that that was around the time I started joining student government groups and running for offices. I was pursuing a “political career”, and I was going to rule the world. This passion continued until I lost the Junior Class Treasurer position in high school.
I received a response from the girl who left the rude remark, and my response to her started out with me feeling calm and collected, and ended with me feeling like I was about to pull someone’s hair out. Okay, so it was a bit more rage-filled than just pulling their hair out, but I basically ended by telling the girl that if she wanted to know more about my mental health stuff that she should actually read my whole blog. Of course, even doing that doesn’t tell her everything, but it would at least give her a better understanding. Of course, she would have to suspend her belief that I’m a hypochondriac, which she continued saying in her response to me, and actually pay attention to the words that I’ve written, instead of jumping to the conclusion that this blog is just out here to get pity. She would also have to suspend her belief that my stating my problems is a badge of honor, and she would have to understand that I’m simply stating them because they (unlike how she feels) ARE a part of who I am. *sigh* Basically, to understand me, she would need to be a different person. I don’t think that she will ever understand me otherwise. If she responds to my response, then I will try my hardest not to continue talking to her because everything she says just makes me want to claw my skin to bits. I know, I shouldn’t let her have that kind of power over me, but somehow, I can’t seem to grasp that concept.