It was on the Wednesday of May 16, and I apologize in advance for what I am about to say. Normally I am calm and collected in my writings, as if I have everything all together. A person like me, with such a clear vision of the world, shouldn't be so blind when it comes to himself, and yet this is a fine example of how my reasonable and my emotional realities don't align.
All my friends won numerous awards. Pretty much everyone got mentioned. Tons of scholarships were given out, and there were tons of other honors. Overall, a ton of people got a lot of love.
Once upon a time, I used to get called up every once and a while during those ceremonies, too. Of course, nowhere near as much as my friends, who always outranked me in their impressive accomplishments. This year, there wasn't any competition between us. Literally, my friends each were recognized for their outstanding academics, character, skill, and so forth. I got nothing.
I was mentioned exactly once during the ceremony because I had participated in speech, but that was immediately before the speech teacher gave a speech about how the local Mary Sue made it to all-state twice in the same year and couldn't stop talking about how great she was.
Moving on, what really hurt me the most was that so many people were applauded for their hard work, citizenship, selflessness, dedication, role-modeling, leadership, service, and good character. I'm happy for them, and I'm proud for the strong moral standing of my community. However, more and more I came to doubt my own character.
I belong to a circle of friends where pretty much everyone's a servant leader. They're great people and they amaze me, and I thought that by having them as friends I'd become more like them, only over time I've become more and more frustrated with how I can't live up to my values, and I feel weak. They can do extraordinary things, and they have outstanding work ethic. They're such amazing role models that they're lights on a hill, and their lights are very plainly seen, as can be inferred from the results of the awards ceremony.
Then there's me. Of course, I don't need any awards to tell me that I'm good at what I do. But I struggle. Afterwords, people tell me that of course I'm special, and though I agree with them intellectually, my emotions tell me that they're just telling me that because it's the nice thing to say. The problem is that I know that I'm not living up to my fullest potential and that I could easily have played a strong enough hand this year that at the end I would have been showered with official acknowledgments, too, not just lip service. The indisputable fact is that I want the plaques and I want to be the best. I want evidence that I'm ready for success, that I'm strong, that I can go the distance. I want to know that I'm living, not just getting by.
Then the ceremony took a break and got back together for the climactic NHS induction. That was a ceremony for people who everyone thought had a higher calling. Which, obviously, I don't fit into because I've never been a leader, having always been slightly awkward. I left and didn't bother watching, because it always hurt. Up until then, all my anger was directed toward myself, but the last time I watched friends walking around in robes I felt a hatred toward them that shouldn't have been there. I didn't want to feel that.
I found a private space in a room, and a special ed. teacher told me I was being immature. I knew that, but I just didn't want images echoing through my head that would continue to hurt me for a couple more years yet.
It was at that point where my self-doubt turned into self-loathing. "I hate many people, but absolutely no one more than myself."
"Is that how a Christian should feel?" he asked me, since he knows how high I hold my faith.
"No." It makes me hate myself even more.
Perhaps I need a counselor. At least I know that I have a personality flaw: I'm an achievement-oriented person who doesn't achieve anything. I hope that later in life I'll at least get done with the things that I want done, and I can feel better about myself.
Your Honor,
Emperor Kraggh
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