Sometimes I forget that I am important

I have been doing WITCH work for over 8 years now but it still hits me as an unreal surprise whenever I get attention. It can be everything from a long thank you letter from a thankful mother of an autistic fan to a simple blog post about my current life situation that I had no idea even existed - in russian!. News that I post on my Facebook page, Twitter, at WITCH-o-HOLIC, and even here in my personal blog, is spread to other sites and for a moment it makes me feel like I'm someone else, like a celebrity.

But then I remember that I'm not. I'm just a fan like any other who had the tools and the determination to finish what she starts. A girl with a mindset that everything can get better, that you can improve yourself, that you shouldn't limit yourself. If you really want something, dream of something, do everything within your power to make it come true. If you're not sure what you want - try something out. If it doesn't work, move to the next.

Sounds good doesn't it?

But in my life, I've been called a poser, a coward, ugly, self-righteous, teenybopper, naive, too rude, too shy, childish, arrogant, stupid, know-it-all, ... and all the contradictions you can imagine. They are stuck as bad memories in my mind and I don't know how many nice words, how many Facebook likes or how many Tumblr notes it will take to balance all of the bad words out.

I was a very lonely child with almost no friends. Just like many other people, I was bullied, but I managed to get my confidence back even though I was seen as weak. I decided to move to a new town to start over, but the plan backfired. It was _because_ of the fact that people did NOT know of my past that they assumed that I was a bully. After being treated as a victim all my life - this was like a shock to me. Talk about ironic.

During the first 6 years, I was able to keep my self-confidence, but 3 years ago, people opened up scars that I thought healed a long time ago. And suddenly, I forgot my value. I forgot who I was. Sometimes I couldn't even feel everything. I cried myself to sleep several times a week, wishing that I could get away with murder. I learned of a feeling I'd never felt before, a feeling called hate. The grudges still remain but I refuse to be a victim again.

So I've been fighting this depression, with the mindset that everything can get better, with the hope that people can improve, and that I shouldn't limit myself to what my haters say. Because if I really want something, dream of something, I should do everything within my power to make it come true.