tl;wr: Boyfriend going to elite school while I stay behind and fall apart. Beating myself up about it…
I didn't get much help on other forums. Too many people were being inconsiderate jerks to me... But bless you if you manage to get to the bottom.
You didn't have to burden yourself.
Once upon a time, I was an overweight 6th grader, tipping the scale at just about
[Edited]. I don’t have much of a memory how I got that way, but I’m sure it was due to the fact that I was dealing with depression from my parents’ divorce. Religion tore the family apart. Dad’s first wife had died from illness and left him with four kids, and my mom simply didn’t want to be “the other woman” anyway. Dad wanted me, but you know the drill—mother takes all when it comes to custody and child support.
From then on, I was an only child. Mom got food stamps let me have my way with the fridge. I hated to share. I could eat an entire pizza by myself and wash it away with a 2 litre. With addition of anti-depressants in my already-filled pill regimen, I watched my khakis and polos expand throughout the school year.
I was fat. I was depressed. My eyesight was getting so terrible that could barely see my hands without my glasses. I was arrogant and had no substance to be so. There was this ugly-looking-vulture-girl that always tore me down further. She had a skin condition, but did I tease her? Nope. Nada. At least not aloud or to her face. She was a failing student, so I took out my revenge by denying her help. I’m no saint.
Being huge made me cover up. I wore jackets every day, rain or shine. I wore cargos as to not define my rolls. I tried to dress as manly as I could to hide my sagging chest. :/ I even went to the lengths of donning a tuxedo for the spring dance.
For that, I endured being called gay. If I didn’t make it clear already, my birth certificate declared me female. I hated the way (some) girls treated me. Why the hell would I want to date one?!
Underneath all that fat, I had a decent brain on my shoulders (or so I was told from Grade 2). Top markings in every class except physical education. My pitiful sketches of what I would now call pathetic excuses for anime characters gained the praise of my peers. A shaky rendition of Fur Elise on the piano earned a pat on the back from the choir teacher. The ability to “make a computer behave” made me a hero of history class when it came time for slideshow presentations.
I thought I was done for when I did something unspeakable to the choir teacher, something from which I’m still suffering guilt. Don’t bother asking me. It wasn’t physical, that’s all. The gifted kids all scratched their heads in confusion at the end of the year when I wasn’t top of my class. My unhealthy habits smothered my chances.
Instead of myself, at the top was someone I never gave much care to. Science class was a class to relax in. End of day, end of story. There was a pudgy Latino boy with long curly hair was pulled back into a braid that descended down his back. Being my immature self, I couldn’t hold back the ethnic stereotypical jokes. “Do you speak English?” “Are you kin to Dora and Diego?” “Are you from Mars or Mexico? Either way you need a green card…” I never knew I’d regret those things later.
I had my tonsils taken out and lost a considerable amount of weight. The mirror rebirthed me, giving me a new outlook on life. Couldn’t swallow very well, but I at least LOOKED like I wasn’t fat. Preparing for the next school year, I took a moment to reflect. What would I do differently? How would I act, study, and dress? Who would be my friends? Friends…that word. I could count a few people on my fingers, but the word “friends” always made bile burn my throat.
Fast forward a few years later, and I’m in high school. I managed to be at the top of my class again on my way there, and my weight managed to creep to the top with me.
Religion is no longer part of my life. Thank you, Mom and Dad for not being able to come to a consensus on which deity to push on me. I’ve grown numb to all things. Nothing gets me really angry (except for the destruction of my material things). Nothing makes me truly happy either. It all feels fake and nonexistent to me now. Death is the only real reality to me.
When you get older, they stop promising incentives for excellence. No more $100 for spelling bees. No more pizza coupons for a stellar report card. Our school doesn’t even post honour roll (that’s because so few make the cut). I’m burnt out on school since we’re not learning anything useful. I don’t care who pillaged whatever village or who betrayed whom for power over the nation. It doesn’t matter to me what soft light through yonder window breaks. Even though I enjoy tinkering with numbers, I hate not being able to apply them to something useful. I’m tired of trying to match the standard of a useless test. I just want to be ready to compete for a well-paying career, not a job at McDonalds. I know, I can’t depend on a teacher to spoon feed me everything there is to know.
I haven’t graduated yet. I’m dreading the moment I walk across the stage since I know I’m not even close to ready to take on the world. My social skills are not amazing. Don’t get me wrong—I have manners and am well aware of how to use them. Unfortunately, my cold personality is also paired with a blank face and the indifference/lack of desire for conversation. Or maybe it’s where I am. I’m in a ghetto after all. I don’t get along well with people who care about “livin’ da thugg life” or “bein’ a bad b*tch” and there are too many people like that around here. My room is the almost the safest place to hide. But due to my aloofness, my death would not even be news if it struck now. Only my teachers would care since I made their lives easier. Dad would probably cry, but I know my half-siblings would only roll their eyes. They don’t care about me anymore.
This is the point. This is the point. This is the point.
I’ve hit an octave, a high and a low. I encountered that Latino guy in my sixth grade science class in the grocery store. He was so friendly that it unnerved me somewhat, but I gave him my number out of respect. I couldn’t tell him no without an issue since he already saw me pull out my phone.
That day brought me to where I am now. That guy is now my boyfriend. Dad would kill me if he so ever found out. I’m supposed to be studying, not dating, and I agree. But my boyfriend manages to check off nearly everything on a parent’s list.
He studies and does well in school.
He has a decent vocabulary.
He respects his elders.
He remembers names and keeps promises.
He smiles and has an honest, warm personality.
He makes friends easily.
He eats healthy—no sodas and junk food—and exercises.
He’s talented too, I suppose, being a band geek and a pseudo-poet.
He’s even religious.
Alas, I feel inadequate next to him. He’s a total Hufflepuff and I just tripped over Ravenclaw and landed in Slytherin. No wait, I think I messed up and created a whole new house, Slytherclaw.
I’m at the top of my class because I colour inside the lines, which makes me appear smart. Teachers ask, therefore I give. If there isn’t a textbook or light reading for a task, I might not be able to handle it. At university, I’m doomed for sure. I simply don’t have raw intelligence (or what people call common sense). But simple engineering puzzles…well, err, I think that’s all I have the potential for. I notice small things about inanimate objects and have tangent thoughts about their workings. That goes on for a while.
Every year I always got invited to big-name schools that you don’t just walk into. You have to be selected to attend them. My boyfriend begged me to at least fill out the paperwork since “getting accepted and not going is a lot better than never applying”. I told him my situation and he understood and let me be. I could never go because Mom never had the money. No one in the family did. Even worse, no one even made it through college. If I play my cards correctly, I’ll be the first to do that.
He got accepted into one of those schools, and he’ll be around smarter people. I wish I was experiencing the same. People around town tell him that they’ll miss him, telling him who to talk to if he needs something and who to network with. I became aware of my jealousy. I tried to squish it and be supportive, but I’m still hurting. It’s not the fact that he’s leaving. We live about an hour apart already.
It’s the fact that he’s getting a better education than I am.
I know. Who’s fault? Mine. But there’s more to me not going than money. I live in a place where only one race lives. I’m at the top at my high school, and no one dare challenges me. Everyone’s happy on welfare. No effort needed. Even though I crave a challenge (and diversity in people), I’m too scared to give up my “throne”. I’m insecure. I’m seeing it now. My 4.2 GPA means nothing.
I have nightmares that he’ll find someone far more suitable when he goes to school. Long silky hair, pale skin, eyes that aren’t brown, sociable, friendly, daring, not selfish, talkative, not ghetto-sounding, skinny, has “good-ol’-fashioned” family values all in one person. Why would he want me? I’m none of that. I’m crying typing out every one of those words.
I’m damned to go back to school with idiots next year. Crowded honours classes. No one to talk to. All my favourite teachers fired for trying to hold us to higher thinking. I’m dead on the inside. I can’t take it anymore. If only there were others that I had things in common with, I wouldn't hurt so much. Anime, Harry Potter, studying, rock music, video games, art, computer tech, other indy stuff... He'll be meeting people that have those interests, I know it.
What in this universe could I possibly do to stop feeling inadequate next to my boyfriend?