Hey guys! This is a memoir I wrote a few months ago. I’m not sure what I was thinking at the time, I had a lot to get off my chest, so it doesn’t really make sense. Enjoy!
NOBODY KNOWS
By: LM
Nobody knows what I’m feeling or thinking. They don’t know what they’re saying when they say I lie when I really don’t. They don’t know what they’re saying when they call me a scaredy cat or a crybaby. Because it’s okay to be scared, it’s okay to cry. And they don’t
know what I’m feeling or thinking so they can’t say I, do what I do without reasoning because I don’t. I do what I do for relief and to make myself feel better. So it’s ok if I cry because they don’t know what I’m going through because they aren’t me. And they aren’t me so they don’t know me and how you will react to things. They just want to get through to me so I will cry again, and they will make fun of me. It’s a never ending cycle of cruelty. They don’t know what they’re saying when they call me a snitch or a wimp because, in my mind, I think telling the truth is good, even though it may get my friend(s) in trouble. And in my mind you don’t have to be tough to be liked. But then they make fun of me and I have to change because if I don’t they’ll change other people to make me miserable. And I am afraid that no one will like me and I’ll be alone forever. And these experiences changed who I was;
Like when my brother called me a wimp on the porch of the rental house after he pinched me and I cried.
I remembered staring into his eyes. They held the same, innocent, yet menacing look. I remember him reaching out and feeling the pain up near where my shoulder was. I remember bursting out in tears, watching them fall down on the fake green grass that was on the cement steps. We were standing under the little overhang in front of the front door.
“Don’t be such a wimp!” I remember him saying. And that’s when I had cried. And cried. He had been so mean to me!
And like when he also threw a water balloon in my face and I cried. And in winter he threw a snowball in my face and I cried.
I remember seeing the water balloon a millisecond before it hit my face. It stung. I crouched on the scratchy green grass and began to cry. My vision was foggy from the tears stored in my eyes. For the following year plus, everytime I would say he shouldn’t cry over a hit from a foam sword, or from a hit from a pillow, he would remind me of that moment.
And with the snowball. He snuck up on me and shoved the snowball in my face. Then I cried too because it had gotten in my eyes and my nose. It stung and my face was cold and wet. Then he got mad at me when I went in.
“You deserve me going in!” I had told him. And had been cautious of him since. He was unpredictable. Like a grenade. He could go off an second, but you wouldn’t know until it happened.
And also like when I told on kids in third grade because they were doing something they weren’t supposed to do and they called me a snitch.
I remember their faces staring at me. They looked hurt.
“Don’t be such a snitch!” One said.
“Yeah. You’re such a snitch!” The other one agreed.
“Snitch!” the last one said. I remember tears forming in my eyes. Since then I didn’t tell on many people. Then they would call me a snitch and make me feel bad.
And when I told on my brother and he called me a snitch.
He has many times. And I told him the story of when the kids called me a Snitch at school.
“Well, you deserve it!” He said angrily.
So I changed myself. I rarely told on anybody. And I didn’t cry from a pinch or a water balloon or even from a snowball. I didn’t cry from that. I changed myself so people would like me and so I would have friends. I changed so people would stay my friend. Because many people are judgemental and they’ll judge me for who I am or degrade me because I am different. Or they’ll laugh at me because I do something stupid, or they’ll use me because I get good grades.
And I learned not to trust everybody because my best friend betrayed me and used me and punched me. Then I cried. And I felt like a wimp again.
So I stay away from people like that. I ignore them. I despise them. Because it shows how truly horrible they are.
And they don’t know how I feel about them. Because I keep it inside and they don’t know. And they’ll never know because I won’t tell them. Because then I would feel like a jerk and I don’t like feeling like a jerk because then I would feel like a bully. And I don’t want to feel like a bully because that would be a role reversal. And role reversals always turn out chaotic. Not quite as chaotic as a world war, but more like an internal war because I feel guilty for hurting people in an emotional way.
So in the end I feel like a bully, so people treat me like a bully because maybe I am one and maybe I’m not, but they’ll always go with the latter. Because they’re not optimistic because that’s just who they are. And we can’t change who they are because we are not them and they are not in our Circle Of Control. But we can always change ourselves for the better, so we should because that is what’s best.
Thank you for reading my Memoir. I haven’t fully lived my life yet, and I am sure there is more to come.
-LM (2018)
Autobiography
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Thank you for sharing. It’s hard to put these experiences into words… I hope it was cathartic for you to see it all out on the page. I really respect people who write memoirs and other true-to-life pieces because you’re putting so much of yourself out there for people to see and critique (both on a personal and a writing level!) so I applaud you. Keep moving forward!
Thank you so much! This was hard especially because my teacher had to see it and read about some of the stuff I’ve been through. I think she has confused feelings about me because at certain times I am silent and always wear a hood (I’ve worn the same hoodie everyday for the past two months), and other times I am laughing and talking to my friends. I think she is also confused because I write letters to the principal about having active shooter drills and I march, and honestly, when you see me, you don’t think “political”. I’m so glad you enjoyed my memoir!