Why I Tend to Loathe Myself...

One thing or another, I am so prone to loathing myself.  It's a huge problem that I am suffering right now because I never did well in school after the first grade, I failed in my attempt to become the world's greatest genius, I was always defeated by those snobs, I was having a difficult time in academics as a teenager... and all these made me create a mask of insecurity.  Yes, a mask of insecurity wanting to hide who I really am, treating like as if it were a deep dark secret.  And I was even thinking that only if I had the perfect brain, I could become better.  So I ended up pretending to be a know-it-all because I know I could never achieve the perfect brain nor in reality, turn myself into a cyborg or even a complete machine.  It's just all science fiction!

All that caused me to develop an inferiority complex because my arch-rival who is now a bum, always beat me down.  Sometimes I even imagine he's there, successful and I'm not.  Having an emotionally rough childhood did not help either.  I even tend to loathe others because they have what I don't...  in general I wanted to acquire all the knowledge of the Universe in my head.  I would have wanted to do everything to increase my intelligence a thousand fold... even if it meant subjecting my brain to shock therapy.  Even after seeing Dr. Man's origins in Bioman, sometimes I wish I had the machine but only to slowly accelerate my brain without the risk of growing so old all of a sudden.  At times, I even think I'm better off being a machine than a man.  For me, I even think being a machine is much better than being a human being.

Another attitude I developed is wanting to be like the others because they seemed cooler to me.  For example, I wanted to take computer science in College even if I suck at Math... because it was a cool course.  I always thought people don't like reading novels, I'm born in the wrong era.  I should have been born in the Victorian Era, I should have been born before that... I should... or I end up thinking who reads these days anyway?  I made one wild assumption to another that people would prefer to play computer games and nobody cares about reading.  I even thought that being gifted as a writer meant I suck... and because of that, I really tend to want to get rid of my own talents to become a scientist.  I even viewed myself as stupid even if some teachers actually praised my writing ability or that I was made a literary editor.  I always considered the smart ones to be the ones scientifically inclined, not those like me... because most of the high paying jobs were those that required a lot of Math.

Also, it's sad to think why I didn't realize I had ADHD and it was only later in my life, I knew I had ADHD.  I really hated myself even more for it.  And the more I think about symptoms I suffer. the more I think that I suffer from many of its disorders.  I talk too much, I hardly listen, I have a teper outbreak, I have a poor awareness of my surroundings, I hardly grasp reality... and for that I even hate myself more.  I even view myself as a freak of nature, who cannot fit in to normal society.  For me, ADHD is a lifelong curse, incurable and I cannot do a thing about it.  I always looked down at myself because I am never good at stuff that required me much focus.  It's because I always have the problem that I want to fit in... while I end up insisting that I am nobody.


So what's the problem again?  I always viewed myself a cursed person, looking for the perfect girl to cure the imperfect me.  Then I get mad realizing that what I want is just a fairy tale.  I always said to myself stuff like, "Beast got Belle in the end but it was only a movie.  Most girls want their Gastons not Beasts."  So I thought, am I doomed for life?  Why was I born with ADHD?  Why did I have to be born with Asperger's?  I just end up looking down at myself,.. and saying, "Belle doesn't exist... and neither do happy endings.  I might just as well live with it!"  And I start to loathe myself even more because reality bites hard on me.

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