Depression of high school

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Along with being unable to accept compliments, there was also this long held concept of being less than and inferior to others, which began early on for me. I struggled in so many ways to match the speed, ease and ability of my classmates that I saw it as a flaw in my very character rather than strictly my ability. It defined me to the core, this idea of not measuring up. That even if I managed to improve, it seemed to matter very little because someone else was still better. My focus was all about how I compared to others instead of establishing my own track of development.

You’re supposed to pay attention to your interests and abilities to recognize talents as those might influence future areas of study to pursue and a potential career path. How do you successfully accomplish this with a negative view of yourself? Yes to a degree I saw that writing and creative writing were more strong suits. But it wasn’t enough to completely draw confidence from it or to see it as an actual talent. I still felt misunderstood for preferring to write in a notebook rather than trying to talk with others.

I twisted most of the compliments I received, convinced that people were just trying to be polite or telling white lie because they felt sorry for me. And with this internal, self-defeating attitude, you can tear yourself down pretty far. I didn’t need extra help in this area. So the emotional and sometimes verbal bullying/antagonizing that I received in previous years just reinforced this feeling of being inferior and incompetent, unworthy.

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Poem: Darkness


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You could say by 9th grade I had a lot going for me. I got along with my classmates, even if there wasn’t a lot of socializing outside of school. I had a few close friends who went to public school, and we still got together often. I was playing basketball and had made the varsity team. And that first year of high school I was making good grades and doing well in class. And yet …

Yet somehow there was still room to write this.

I honestly don’t remember what inspired this poem, what specific thing happened to prompt writing this. It was kind of a shock to find when looking through old files, but there are a few lines that seem familiar. No matter. It’s another clear indication that things weren’t okay. There were definitely problems beneath the surface, problems that for whatever reason I didn’t feel I could vocalize directly.

This was written at the end of my freshman year in high school.

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