8th Grade All Over Again

2003 was one of the toughest years of my life, I was 13, hitting the bad end of my studies and my dog was killed off in front of me. I was too fat, too dumb and just didn't belong. I was too much of an idiot to see outside of the TV and failed miserably in Maths (by my standards). People wanted me to do big stuff and wanted to see me fail doing them.

Everyday I wished I was in a different side of reality, read that as everyday I wanted to die. Add all that up and multiply it by a million, that's how miserable I was with my 8th grade unrequited crush on a girl.

It's a very cliche plot in an all girls school to have a girl crush on the most boyish, most athletic young man substitute. I was on the deep end of it. I was better than her in one thing- my grades. I was on the high road to a competitive education and she was school's Miss Popularity. I was the bean bag in the sports class, she flitted in and out of volleyball, running and everything that made her cool. I cried when she lost a match and got my ass handed to me at home because I scored 7/10 on a Science Test where some other high achiever was given a 9/10 ( only 'cause if you pay the teacher you get the coming question, simple business).

I haven't seen Miss Popularity for real in almost 8 years. Facebook does NOT count, ever. By the time I graduate from my formal education and fully settle for my next life, it will be full friggin 15 years. It's not that I don't want to see her again, it's just that I won't.

Flash forward to 2016, I am still way too fat but I got attitude. I cut off my hair for a boyish crop but I still look like a High Schooler. The only reason I can't wear my high school uniform is because I'm now a 42C instead of the 38B I started with and I grew almost 5 inches since that time. If I wear that again, no one will ever see me as anything but a high schooler.
But the babble I have in store is of a different timbre.
I am at the worst end of my studies and at the bottom of my class. My grades and educational achievements retired the second I got into University and joined Economics. Geting into Business School was another weird one time only streak of neuron reload, right now I am at the lowest of my education status. And this time I am crushing on a guy.

Add my panic attacks, my super low self esteem from grades and cgpa, and multiply by a billion; that's where you get my co-ordinate of despair on this plane of insanity.

The day I first set my seeing eye on him, I just ignored him. Guys like that never associate with bean bags like me. But it just doesn't play out like that, ever. His parents had to name him after the sun, and like the ever present star in our solar system you cannot ignore that sodding power house. He is Mr. Popularity and has everything- the grades, the looks (used to, according to my Mom) plus the can do anything attitude most privileged upper class guys are born into.

I have no clue whatsoever on what keeps drawing me to Mr. Popularity. I blame my haywire libido on it. I haven't associated with proper males in ages. Majority of my undergraduate male class mates weren't on my radar because social class is an actual thing. You cannot be 26 and not date, if you go for that path you are bound for misfortune in the shape of a human flag pole. Note to future womb critters: please be sociopathic serial killers.

It's not exactly the same situation as 2003 but I am crushing over someone and it is BAD. I am a wreck for my own respiratory system because I am breathing for at least three different personas. I am no longer on the high way to grades and education but I do have a knack for music now. Miss Popularity wishes she were in my shoes because where I am is the place everyone would want to be.

I just know for now that I have to stop myself from doing something EXTREMELY stupid. Not that I have always been smart but at least I need to stop from doing something I would regret, like getting into the Harry Potter bandwagon because of Miss Popularity.  I hate the whole franchise at a visceral level now. People I have known since birth still want bad stuff to happen to me, but now I openly announce that cancer should visit them at stage 3 or they should feel lucky if their grand child isn't autistic. Karma is the only true measure of life, period.

I am still waiting for that 'Someday' when I can look back at all these and actually cuss at my old idiot  self. For now I just want Mr. Popularity to get a good girlfriend or to die. I am not strong enough anymore to suffer through another 8th grade 'crush' and burn.