I hate to be made to feel inferior and yet this is what they always do. They never miss a chance, they never pass by an opportunity. They keep it up no matter what – they never forget to take a dig. There is something very relentless in their constant derision: they are very serious indeed about what they are doing, even though it is so often done in the guise of a hilarious comment, a jibe or a joke, a wisecrack or a bit of light-hearted banter.
They laugh and they smile as they place their little barbs in me but I known that underneath it all they are as serious as can be. They aren’t being funny at all, not really. They are in deadly earnest. They aren’t messing around at all, despite the fact that they are so good at giving the appearance that they are doing so. They are like a pack of piranha fish stripping their victim to the bone with their razor-sharp teeth.
Even when they don’t say anything to me they still smirk. They give each other knowing glances and snigger when they walk past. They titter. They snicker. They sneer. They giggle and laugh. Even when no one looks at me I still know it’s me they’re laughing at. It’s got so I can’t hear anyone laugh anymore, without suspecting that it’s me who is the butt of the joke. I feel myself cringing inside.
Why is this so important to them, I wonder? Why don’t they ever let go? Why is it is so vitally important to everyone that I be made to feel inferior? What is it all about?
There is a plot, a plan, a conspiracy. Is it that they know I am great, and so are all the more determined to utterly destroy me, bring me down, convince me that I am not great? Convince me in fact not great at all but a laughable joke. That’s what they want me to believe. They want me to see myself as a freak – they want me to laugh at myself, to hate and jeer at myself as they do. Then their work will be done.
And I have to admit that the conspiracy is succeeding. Possibly even already has succeeded. I really do feel inferior – and I hate to be made to feel this way. It also makes me very angry. Angry at them for their vile treatment of me, and angry with myself for letting them.
I need to fight back. I need to do something – before this whole thing goes any further. Before it’s too late. The only thing is, I don’t know what…