I am the girl who everyone secretly hates.
I am the outsider, the estranged, the loathed.
The things I say, my actions, spawned only out of wanting to belong, are found offensive and even repulsive in some cases. The confined world that I so fervently clung to, that I had once thrived in, has forsaken me. All that I had known, that I had thought to understand, has been revealed as false, and I am left as naked and ashamed as I ever could be. My assumptions astound those around me, and I am left in a perpetual pit of ignorance that is often mistaken for insolence. I feel the disapproval of others by the way they regard me, and I feel weak and violated at all times. Perhaps in retaliation, I try to point out their own flaws, both fictional and factual. I suppose the first few times it made me feel empowered -- a fleeting relief from my self-pity -- but it is largely unsatisfying, and leaves me feeling rather empty. Although I suffer, I make no attempt to correct myself, or seek assistance otherwise. I plow on, as if oblivious to my mistakes, though they are blaringly blatant and detestable, even to my own unable eyes.
Because I'm the girl that everyone hates.
I'm the outsider, the estranged, the loathed.
I am Renge.