Nobody really understands. Clique I know, but true. They're all lucky, luckier than they even know. They have something I can never have, the one truly important thing that you need to fit in, to be normal – control.
They think that they're so hard done by, that they have hard lives, but they have no idea.
They can walk down the street without being noticed, they can blend in – but not me.
I get stares and dirty looks, for I am so unique that I am all too noticeable. You see, all I want, even just for one day, is to be normal. To wake up in the morning and not have to struggle to control myself, to be in a bad mood without the severe consequences.
But that's impossible. Even in this technical day and age, I can't even obtain a shred of control, a shred of dignity.
Sure, I have friends, lots of them, and they're different too, but the major difference is that they can sit together in a cinema, park, café, and look like a group of normal teenagers – they blend. Yet as soon as I join them, the weather darkens, people nearby pull their jackets closer to them and walk away to better climates across the street, and once again we are treated like we're from bloody mars…
They say that they don't mind – that they like spending time with me, but I know the truth.
I know that they sigh when they see me coming, speak carefully and quietly around me in fear of invoking one of my infamous moods, and even go to such lengths as to not speak to me at all, leave me out of their conversations in order to not get me worked up about some things.
And I know for a fact they have purposely not invited me places as to not have to put up with me.
They thought I was busy.
They forgot.
They thought I'd been asked.
Bullshit.
Like they even care.
They only keep me around in case things get rough and they need me.
In case they need my powers.
Sometimes I wish I'd never been born.
I think my mum gets the worst of it. I don't mean to hurt her, to worry her, but it's just the way I am, no matter how much I wish otherwise.
My dad is constantly on my back about the shit my mother has to put up with, though to be honest, it's all his fault.
He's the one that 'passed down' my power. My curse.
And he has the damn cheek to tell me that I should learn to calm down?
He's a bloody hypocrite.
I sometimes apologise to my mum, for being this way. But she just pats me on the cheek lovingly, and tells me that she loves me the way I am, and wouldn't want me to be any other way, the way any mother would, and sends me on my way.
But I know.
I know she wishes for a quiet, well spoken, normal son. All the things I'm not.
I know I can't change, that I should just get on with it because I'll always be this way so there's no point getting worked up about it, but that's the problem.
No matter how much control I can muster, no matter how many friends I will have, it'll just be same. The same damn treatment, the same damn weather, all the same damn shit.
The thought of my life makes me gloomy. So the weather is gloomy. So my friends are gloomy.
But there's nothing I can do about it.
So how can anybody understand?