I have ADHD, Anxiety, and some really bad depression. Only the anxiety is diagnosed, but I know the rest is there. From what I remember, it’s always been this way. I can barely remember most of my childhood in detail, but I think I know the main events.I was alienated and bullied when I was in Elementary school because of my weird nature. I believed that everyone had thoughts that overlapped like pop-ups on a computer and a sensitivity to certain noises, but they were better at regulating it than me.

It was especially awful in 4th grade. We came back from quarantine, and just a few weeks later one of my favorite teachers got exposed for having CP on his work computer. He was always nice to me and treated me like a person, but I don’t know if that really is true anymore. All the people I thought were my friends were just pitying me and treating me like a joke. I felt so stupid for not realizing it sooner. It was like my world was falling apart. People would make fun of me, but I was unable to defend myself. I used thoughts of gory violence and gaining god-like control as a coping mechanism, but it didn’t really work in the long run.

I felt so alone and empty. Days started to blur together until I couldn't remember what the date was or what time it was. I would dissociate just so I wouldn't have to hear the things they would call me, or see them pointing and staring at me. I just wanted to escape from the body that forced me to widthstand the torture adults called the best years I would ever get.

Fifth grade was certainly better. I made a friend. And then two friends. They treated me like I was human, and that's all I wanted. We bonded over games and shows we liked. We all shared a few interests, so they wouldn’t find me cringe if I started talking about something like Bendy And The Ink Machine; In fact, they would be talking about it too!

I have grown. My past still heavily affects me, I still feel non-existent eyes on me. I still feel inferior to everyone else around me. . I still escape to my head whenever I feel that something is wrong; but I have people I can talk to. They think my jokes are funny, that my art is good, and that I’m a good friend and a good person.

I’m proud of myself for surviving to fifteen. If I gave up, I wouldn’t see all the good that is happening. I have friends, two dogs, a good home, and I am alive. I still breathe. And although things are hectic right now with AI and all the other bad news, I will continue to persevere through this existence out of pure, unadulterated spite.

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