For understanding someone like me

The smirks on the girls faces after they had quickly searched for each other’s eyes when noticing I had entered the room did not go unperceived by me. It is seldom I’m aware of interactions such as this, for most of the time I’m buried in waves of derealization and panic in rotation, so it is no wonder this one hurt. A lot.

The lesson had just finished, and I was packing my belongings into my bag. I was answering a question of my classmate when in the corner of my eye I saw the teacher approaching the front desks we were sitting at. “Are these new? Do your parents know about these?” the teacher asked me coldly in a not so controlled voice, in a room full of my peers. I lifted my bag to my shoulder, and in few seconds sprinted out of the class – easy escape, like planned.

I lifted my head only to meet the gaze of an older man sitting few meters away from me in the Ubahn. I had noticed him staring earlier, but during the first few seconds of it I couldn’t find myself to be bothered enough to care. However, after we had passed a few stops, his gaze full of disgust and loathe started feeling like tar slowly dropping over me. Heavy and hindering, like trapped in jello for the lack of a better comparison. For so long I have let myself be concurred by the passing and not so passing glances of these people that simply don’t matter. I lifted my head to meet his eyes, stony look on my face.

“Girl, no listen. At first, I thought he kept looking at my boobs like every 10 seconds, also like ew. But no, he was staring at my arms the whole freaking time. Like what the.”

“I just don’t get it. Why would somebody do that? They’re obviously sick, so why don’t they just reach out for help?” I remember having asked my mother when around the age of 11 or 12, discussing the topic of people who find themselves in a situation where they’re desperate enough to hurt themselves for a moment of relief.

There are so many things to say, and so little words to describe them. The words just don’t stand up to the feeling of why I, you, or anybody would hurt themselves. I believe some things in the world are such that it is sometimes difficult to understand the thoughts and reasoning of some people’s decisions without having experienced similar feelings themselves. Because why would any healthy minded person cause themselves bodily or mental harm, for all we were put on this earth for is to flourish. But believe me, once you’ve often enough tasted that honeypot with instant regret and more anxiety, soon the snowballing cocktail of self-pity and hatred is all you know. Which is why everybody should reach out when they’re hurting and help when they see somebody hurting. But for that please be gentle, understand that sometimes you can’t understand.

And to that someone like me, what other people find fascinating is their own concern, so spend your time looking at something beautiful.