The Postmodern Chronicles Of Hayley

NOTE: I wrote this during one of my darkest hours. It is rather deep, but I felt it was relevant that I posted this blog, as reflects an aspect of who I am that many are unaware of. The feelings still continue, but they have been tucked away…

Post-compulsory education my arse!

“You are in year 11 now, what is known as post-compulsory education. You are not legally required to be at school.” How many times have you heard teachers recite that as if it were the bloody Pledge of Allegiance? Do they seriously believe that the majority of people are at school because they WANT to be? Or do they just want us to feel guilty because we are ‘wasting their time’? Well, news flash DET, I don’t want to be there, but some of us have no choice. Nope, I am being forced to stay at school until there are no more years for me to complete. My other alternative is staying at school until I die, and trust me, it looks like a much better option.

School is quite literally killing me. On average, I am shoving about 46mg of Concerta and Ritalin down my throat, just so it tricks my mind into thinking that I actually want to be at school and I actually want to achieve something.

I walk around like a psychopathic Zombie. I want to speak, but I can’t get the words out. My sense of humour disappears and rather than finding something funny, I look beyond it. I constantly feel unclean and irritated. My hands and feet go freezing cold. My mouth gets groggy and I live with a permanant horrible taste in my mouth. I get so annoyed at some people that I have to physically hold myself back to prevent me snapping and kicking the shit out of them. I force myself to communicate with other people, putting on a fake smile and pretending everything is alright. I lose my appetite, so I can feel myself growing ill from not eating, but not having the strength to actually put something in my mouth and eat it. I constantly feel full and overweight, suppressing my appetite.

 My mind is constantly active. If I can’t find something to occupy my mind, I chew my lips until they bleed. Whenever I hear other people laughing, I am certain it’s at me. I feel nothing but people staring at me. I’m always freezing cold, but sweating profusely. Whenever I see a powerpoint turned on, I want to stick my fingers in it. When a train comes, I’ve got to again, physically stop myself from jumping infront of it. If I were to break down my barrier, I’d just burst into a flood of tears. And this is all in the name of a good education.

So what do people see? They see a quiet, happy, overachieving, smart and innocent girl who always does her homework. She’d never do anything bad like go to parties or get drunk or do drugs or stay up past her bedtime. One particular girl said that when she first met me (by meeting, she means seeing me in class), she hated me because I was a ‘brown-noser’. Firstly, this girl needs to learn the definition of ‘brown-noser’. Secondly, I find it very sad that she, like so many others see me as a one dimensional character and with that, make an immediate judgement of who I am. I guess I’m fortunate that she doesn’t know me, because privacy is very important to me.

And then there’s self-image. I’m as self-conscious about my appearance as the next person. But that’s a personal battle. Complaining about yourself will not make the kilos disappear. But all these people that complaining about how fat they are, are also the ones that post Myspace pictures of themselves in their underwear, flaunting it. I’ve never understood this. I don’t dare to reveal how I really feel about my body, because I know I’ll just get smothered in reassurance. I live a constant battle with food. I hate it. I hate the taste, the texture, the smell, the way it makes me feel… I eat because I’m made to, not because I want to. All this shit about the media making girls want to be thin, it’s not true. Because I’ve felt this way before I could even read. Never at one point in my life have I been overweight or even of average weight, but I still feel horrible whenever I am even close to a healthy weight. It’s a horrible way of thinking, and I wish it would stop, but I can’t.

I seriously don’t know how much more of this I can take. I know it sounds like a fucking overused cliché of teenage angst, but this burrows deeper than that. I feel psychological macrocosms of loneliness. I can never decide whether to hate myself or love myself. I love myself for being unique, but then I hate myself and wonder why the fuck I can’t work like everyone else.

I’m frightened to tell people how I really feel, because I’ll just sound like an attention seeking whinger. And that’s the last thing I want. I’m scared that this anxious private mentality of mine will eventually cause me to deteriorate in every possible way. The only way I can begin to express myself is through writing.

This is a cry for help…