omnilegent
ABSOLUTE SUBHUMAN
- Joined
- Aug 10, 2024
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Everyone around me was laughing, taking pictures, and creating memories they’ll probably talk about for years. Meanwhile, I was glued to my phone, listening to InkwellTV archives and zoning out, analyzing random faces and heights like it’s some kind of obsession I can’t escape. Every detail I notice feels like a dagger, reminding me of what I’m not.
I didn’t feel like I was part of this trip. I felt like I was watching it from the outside, a ghost standing among the living.
This was probably my last school trip. I’m in 11th grade, and let’s be honest, there’s no way our homeroom teacher will plan another one next year. Everyone will be too focused on finals, trying to figure out the rest of their lives. So this was it. My last chance to experience something I’ll never get back, and I wasted it.
It’s brutal when it hits you.
I’ll never find this time again.
I’ll never be this young again.
What really stings is that they were making memories, real ones.
Laughing, talking, taking pictures that will outlive the moment. Those pictures will remind them of how it felt to be young, alive, and connected.
And me? I’ll remember sitting in the corner, alone with my thoughts, spiraling into the same loop of comparison and self-hate that’s been eating away at me for years.
The only "memory" I will have of this day will be of me writing this thread in the train, on the way home.
I wasn’t just missing out on a trip.
I was missing out on being part of something, part of life itself. And the worst part is, I know I’ll never get that time back. No matter what happens in the future, no amount of success, no plastic surgeries, no "ascension" will ever fill the gap in my soul.
Because the truth is, I let these moments slip through my fingers. And now I have to live with that.
I didn’t feel like I was part of this trip. I felt like I was watching it from the outside, a ghost standing among the living.
This was probably my last school trip. I’m in 11th grade, and let’s be honest, there’s no way our homeroom teacher will plan another one next year. Everyone will be too focused on finals, trying to figure out the rest of their lives. So this was it. My last chance to experience something I’ll never get back, and I wasted it.
It’s brutal when it hits you.
I’ll never find this time again.
I’ll never be this young again.
What really stings is that they were making memories, real ones.
Laughing, talking, taking pictures that will outlive the moment. Those pictures will remind them of how it felt to be young, alive, and connected.
And me? I’ll remember sitting in the corner, alone with my thoughts, spiraling into the same loop of comparison and self-hate that’s been eating away at me for years.
The only "memory" I will have of this day will be of me writing this thread in the train, on the way home.
I wasn’t just missing out on a trip.
I was missing out on being part of something, part of life itself. And the worst part is, I know I’ll never get that time back. No matter what happens in the future, no amount of success, no plastic surgeries, no "ascension" will ever fill the gap in my soul.
Because the truth is, I let these moments slip through my fingers. And now I have to live with that.