Decide for yourself what this is

I am rewriting this because I just accidentally erased everything I had written.

I have just realised I have been turning slowly into another of those smiling faking idiots that are so common in society. It has scared me so much I don't even know what to do with myself.
I have been decieved by my own idea of what being strong is supposed to mean, and in order to make people like me and be happy around me I have stabbed myself in the back. I have had to tolearate my friends being nicer to someone who has been pretty nasty to me that they actually are sometimes to me. I have created the illusion for them that I am stupid (which I'm not, but that doesn't make me specially intelligent either) and that I don't care much about my school life. I smile and laugh when I just want to be left alone, and I don't even know how I manage it... .
Also, the determination to remain my original self, standing proud of everything I think and am has been severely damaged by a constant effort I didn't really realise I was making to be liked and accepted by other people.

There are many other things, I would rather not go into, that keep the sleep away from me at night.

I only hope I'll be able to go back on my footsteps, so that maybe that way I'll be able to become whatever is left of what I first aimed to be.

Might be revised. Poison works 1

He tested the tip of the syringe. The dark green liquid inside spurted out with a satisfying squish. After securing the needle so he wouldn’t get accidentally stung, he packed it up and set of towards school.

The corridor was full of expectant smiles and sniggering. At the end of the passage stood four tall, broad-shouldered figures. And the trap was set.

No insults were exchanged, not ever normal words. He ran towards them, his face a mask of pain, hate determination. He felt the bruises of the other days stinging where they had not completely healed. His cracked rib had also not had enough time to recover, but he jumped anyway.

What came next, he expected.

A punch caught him full in the stomach while he was still in the air, but the syringe was in his hand, the needle free.

His body went down. The needle went down. The enemy was dead.