In my mind, I quickly suppressed my vindictive tendencies, as I walked by the spy-car. Its indicators were blinking violently, all too inviting. I just chose to walk away. 

The spies that are obsessed with not seeing me succeed have been less effective lately. Whatever they do to anger me fails. I make sure that it does. I tell myself that they want me to be in distress, and that I must not give them what they want. And it works. 

They've spread the rumor a little at my new university. I can tell by analyzing the body languages, facial expressions, and psychological tells of the people there. So far, nothing bad has happened. My abilities are lying doggo; I'll unleash them when I detect an opportunity. I've done this only once, and am on constant surveillance for lingering opportunities so that I can grab them and do something. I guess I'll have to impress the teachers with a good GPA, since there is no sign of competitions right now. 

All I have to do is undo what they've done. Not add to their concoction by letting my monsters out. 

They laugh at me and try to crush me. Into a thousand pieces so that I can never revert. I read in Sean Covey's 7 Habits about the story of King Louis XVI. How the invaders tried their best to destroy him inside-out. But he didn't give in. I guess I'll read more about this king. I have to. 

The old days are gone. I don't cry over public humiliation, I don't even feel humiliated anymore. I think my spies to be nothing more than just thin air, doing best what air does: move. And make sounds and be felt. Nothing more. 

They think they're succeeding, with their tenacity. But they're wrong. 

Life is going on. So am I. They're still doing what they're doing and so am I. They wanted me to stop, but haven't succeeded. 

What else should I assume? They have the police and the rangers on my endless pursuit. For no good reason. Just conjecture. And when I look the pursuers in the eye, they never look back. If I really was a terrorist, I would've been arrested. But they only follow me around, wasting their time. I guess they have plenty. 

So, they laugh at me. I appear funny to them. And they think that I should be followed, too. 

I wonder what I did to deserve this. 

I don't have to worry anymore, since I don't make public scenes. But it is never wrong to reign over your reins when in entrancing territory. 

Life is all about asserting your say. About letting this world know that you're proud of yourself, no matter what they think. You have to keep standing. And you have to keep walking. I don't know why I have been thrown to the wolves, but I'm glad for it. I might not return leading the pack, but they'll definitely respect me. 

My encounters with the spies are quite motivational. And if I land my eyes on their smirks, it becomes even more so. Inside, I know that they're trying to break me. But that never happens. 

Here's what I have for them: I am getting close to my goals as each day passes. As every hour ends, as every minute concludes. You may ridicule me and feel like accomplishing whatever you think you're accomplishing, but I don't care. I have a life. So do you. But you've chosen to waste a compartment of it on trying to make me feel miserable. Why not use it all on the things you want to do? 

I have said this before—I think—and I'll say it again: I mean no one any harm. Deep down inside, I am actually a nice person. But you don't get to see that person because of the things that you do to me. Even when all these years have passed, I still have that nice bit alive and well. And I'm going to use it one day to better this world. 

I have already begun.You're welcome to join me. Or, you can continue trying to stop me and continue failing. The choice is solely yours.

There is much more to living than trying to make someone born a little differently feel bad. We're all dying one day. We're all running out of time. Surely you know that. If you think that by spreading rumors about me, by following me, by laughing at me you can fulfill what you all were born to do, then I won't stop you. But I won't fight back anymore. I don't care about my bad reputation. I know that I am not the person you're telling the world. 

I don't even know if you're reading this. But I really hope that you are. You people have never stopped me in my tracks to confirm what you've been told about me. But have chosen to blatantly believe some hearsay and are making it reality. Only that it's not. There was a time when I started writing small letters full of questions. My MO was to leave those letters for you, tucked in your screen-scrapers—or throwing them inside your cars, into your laps. So that I could tell you of my innocence. But I never did it. I wish that I had. I did ask a few of you. But they were speechless, nothing but contained laughter on their faces. 

You people are the reason I began this blog. To tell you the truth. To tell you my story. But then I jumped ship and changed its purpose. I still write to you after breaks of what this blog is truly meant for. I hope you are reading this; I hope beyond hope. 

I hope beyond hope.