I can very honestly say that I never failed a class in school.
That sounds absolutely horrible. I never failed a class. Why do I focus on that as a starting point? Did I really do that bad in high school that I have to focus on not failing as an achievement?
For me, school was hell. I was never popular. In elementary school, I always saw kids that I was like “eew… I’d hate to be that bad”, the kids that interrupt a class because… I don’t know, they didn’t communicate well. And, the more I describe them, the more I realize that I draw similar parallels, albeit not nearly to the degrading level that they had it. I was always the odd kid who tried to pretend not to be.
The problem is, everyone when I was in elementary school was unaminous in saying “Oh, middle school will be better.” In middle school, everyone was unaminous in saying “Oh, high school will be better.” Guess what everyone was unaminous in saying in high school? Quite frankly, by time high school was over, I was done with it. I’m not going to college. I could very well go thru college, get my diploma, but there’s the simple fact that I’ve been told future schooling gets better. It really doesn’t. It really never has. To be quite honest, I doubt that for me it ever would have.
You know what? I guess high school was better. I had more freedom to determine my own coursework, at least in part. There were courses that sounded fun, always. But, when you get into the course, a course in which you may enjoy, and there’s 30 other assholes there, it loses its luster. So by time senior year came around, my goal was simply to get away from it all. I took a college course because I heard it had half an hour of bus ride each way. I took internship because I could leave school 2 hours early. I opted for these courses not because they sounded fun at this point, but for the more practical purpose of not having to deal with assholes.
Even then, I never really got away from them. In said college course, kid next to me took it upon himself to circumvent school filters to browse pornography. I’m sorry… we’re in school, not on your bed with your laptop and your right hand over your fucking cock. There’s just something deeply distrubing in knowing what another persons pornographic preferences are. Nor, quite honestly, do I care about your obsession about anime, or whether or not Naurto likes Sasume or some shit like that. So here I was, in the abyss between the two poles, not willing to join the… disturbance… that was associated with normality, but not willing to accept the annoying cult-like obsession of japanese culture that was associated with the… less… normal crowd.
I was alone. I had a few people I could at the time call friends, but in all reality, after high school ended, I was alone. I never spoke to most of them again. Quite frankly, I’m OK with that. As a result of that, I lack the ability to communicate well with people. It’s not that I’m an asshole, it’s not that I’m some mental delinquent, it’s just that I’ve always learned that keeping to myself is the best way to keep safe.