/what/ - ...

Hi, guys. I'm finally spilling every part of me.
When I was younger, I only had a small group of friends and a huge pride. Seriously. It rivals with Alfred's. I was always with four people, and only those four people. Then one left. Another one a year later. I only had two friends, now. One of them (my BFF) went to hang out with the popular crowd and I became alone. I was always thinking when I was alone. I found out that everyone in my class wouldn't talk to me for one reason or another. They either hated me, didn't care about me, or envied me. I was truly alone. But then Zellie (one of my friends from my old school) came up to talk to me. And talk we did. I suddenly began to change. I became more self-conscious. Because of my pride, whenever she joked around with me and said "I don't care!!!" (which is a line from Pewds. It's alright, Zellie~) it hurt me, because I didn't know what it meant at the time. I soon became more distant from her, too. I felt real friendship, but I was too afraid to say anything because she might say that to me. We soon had to depart that year. I had to move to a different school, and she was going to another school, as well, but separate from mine. Two other people from my old school moved along with me. I knew I'd changed. I started to feel more reserved, more. . . shy as some would call it. But I always wanted to answer questions in school. Except whenever I got the answer wrong, I. . . my pride fell a little bit more. Soon, I became more recluse. I was afraid to answer any questions not only because of my pride, but also because I didn't know the people at my new school. They could turn on me any minute and start jeering at me for my mistakes. I always waited for someone to approach me. . . I gave them all kind smiles, and one of the ones from my old school kept glaring at me. She only gave that look to me. I know it. I started becoming paranoid. She was in only one of my classes, and the other person who moved with us saw me only in the hallways, but I was scared. That she would hit me, or even worse, tell everyone that I was "Mean" "Dumb" "Useless" "Full of herself". Or that "Look at her! Her singing is terrible!" "She doesn't like shopping? She's such a freak!" "Look at her clothes! They're so linty!". I was afraid that she was going to fulfill my number one nightmare: That everyone would hate or make fun of me. Even worse, never talk to me at all. So I'll be alone. Alone. Alone. Once, she (well, my counsellor says that it might be accidentally, but I don't believe so) hit me. There was a lot of space that she could move around in. Maybe it was because I was too apologetic. Maybe. Tuesdat, (you didn't do anything bad) I am always reluctant to take anything, whether it's food or anything else you let me have, not because I'm shy, but because I'm afraid of all this happening. If I get too greedy or crazy, it'll all start. My nightmare would come true. Same with all my friends. I'm afraid to tell you anything, because. . . (you won't do this, I know, but the paranoic part of me thinks that) you'll spread my problems around. That I'll be known as "The girl who's weak" or "The girl who's afraid of being alone". You know how scary it is to me? I'm crying right now just thinking of being alone. I hate it. And when people don't smile at me or don't hear me, whether it's because their mind is occupied or something else, my mind tells me it's because they hate me, or secretly think I'm some kind of freakshow that cursed their school. They think. . . that I'm really mean and cruel on the inside. I'm not. I try to be nice. They won't listen. They won't listen. I bet you think I'm crazy. Good. (sadly smiles) You won't have to deal with me anymore if you do. Just tell me, and I'll go back to where I was before. One girl against a class. One girl against. . . anxiety. I don't want to play the mind game, anymore. I'm NOT. I'm not killing myself. That's what they want. They know how to play the game. I've played it before and I know what it's like. I can empathize with people. Whenever I read a story, I feel the emotions of the characters and understand them. Even a comment on YT. So when a friend asks me, "What's wrong with that? Why is that a bad thing?" I shake my head internally. One of our teachers wants us to be more quieter and not be crazy. If I do, I might revert back to what I was before. An isolated child. This year was the first year when I could truly be me. She doesn't understand. I don't think she'd look at me the same if I told her the truth. And neither will you. You'll probably view me as a poor, helpless girl. Or you might assume "their" side and believe that I AM a prideful person. If you're a real friend, I just want you to see me as a normal person. Only one that had to vent out this emotion. And don't look at my old classmates badly. (smiles) I. . . I-I don't want them to feel bad.