This will probably get buried. I was the chubby stereotypical asian kid. Boisterous, loud, and sociable. Had a very high-pitched, since I wanted to be "cute" (Only now realizing that it was closer to wanting to be feminine). Had delusions of being a kung fury master (I know, adorable).
In fourth grade, I remember hanging out with my peers at a Navy Cadets program. Suddenly, someone (let's call him Joe) comes up to me and says,
"You're annoying".
That's all it took. My "friends" decided to join in on the fun, I guess to release their pent up disdain towards me. Maybe they were friends with me out of pity, I dunno. Since then, I've been ostracized. Anxiety ate away at me. People were no more than a threat in my mind. I quit the program. Fast forward a few years to when I was in 7th grade.
Joe's parents become my parents' friend through my cousins.
Through some miracle, I became friends with both Joe, and his brother John. I still had a high voice, and they would constantly nag me about. At the time, it hurt me, though I had no idea why. I stopped and even now talk with the lowest voice I can muster. Someone else mentioned that I switched from having a high voice to a extremely low one. My anxiety kept growing. In 8th grade, I started cutting. Why? Honestly I keep seeing things of sad people slitting their wrists, so I copied them. Somehow it felt right.
Summer break after 8th grade, we went on vacation. John and I are great pals. We're just talking about the typical things, girls, what we youngins consider philosophy, etc. He mentions how he hated me when I was younger. I get angry. We make up. It fucking hurt.
Later on, Joe just talks about my habit of accidently turning my voice high when speaking to them, and about how annoying I was. I laugh it off. It fucking hurt.
Two weeks after the the trip, my cuts get deeper. I open up to my doctor. He sends me to a psychiatrist. Mental health system is seriously fucked so I see her evey month, with no clinician; I was put on the waiting for I don't know how long. After being diagnosed as depressed, I let it consume me. The past January I tried to commit suicide. Got sent to a psych ward for two months. Felt like I was recovering. Had dinner with Joe and John. Joe asks me why I was away for so long. I tell him the truth. He responds with "huh? Why?". Everyone ignored it. No one wants to touch that topic.
Later that night, Joe and I had a conversation. Get over it. Fuck you. Smile more. Fuck you. Why are you even depressed?
Words fucking hurt, man.