You ever heard about a situation where even if someone is surrounded by people, they're still lonely and miserable? Well... I'm not exactly miserable, but I am lonely.
In the past, I was the class mediator and still am. It's a harder job than you think. I have to deal with everyone's problems except my own.
Even if I allow people in, they all eventually move away, forgetting about me, and leaving me alone. They ignore my existence. Sure, my antics in class gets people to crack a smile and laugh, but... it's not the same.
On Sport's Day, I'm the #1 runner. They all count on me but, really, they let me do all the work.
When bullies strike, if I'm there, I usually try to help. It's just a morals thing. Still... punching people does relieve some of the stress.
Those people rely on me way too much.
As for why I just grin and bear it... I can't help that. I'm stubborn. I won't let anyone see my pain. I don't want pity, or to be a burden to anyone. That's the last thing I want.
Have I contemplated suicide before? Yes, but I've never attempted it. My father would only worry, get mad at me for being stupid, and ground me to infinity. Mou! He's the only reason I'm still alive right now.
What I want right now... is for someone to notice my fake smile, my lonely smile. To see through the facade of my happy-go-lucky persona. To just see me.
No one even truly knows me. They don't know that I have origami as a hobby, which I'm really good at by the way, and... they don't know that even I get depressed and cry. ... OK. That's kind of my fault for hiding it, but someone should've noticed.
Why should anyone care about how I feel? ... Well..., how should I know? I just know that I notice things, the small things no one ever notices or just ignores. That I'm a "naive and somewhat useless idiot."
I'm glad I got that off my chest and mind. I've been bottling it up inside for years.
While I doubt anyone is going to read this, let me just say this: "There's more to me than anybody knows, and I plan to keep it that way."
But, despite saying that... I wish someone would prove me wrong. To show me how to change. I... really don't want to feel this way anymore.
What am I saying? Sorry about that. No one should listen (or read) to the rambling (or in this case, writings) of a "uselessly cheerful idiot."