Words to live by, mi amico.
You know, I'll bet every single internet or technology millionaire has a story just like that. I
know Bill Gates does, I've read it.
I had to go through this feeling in high school. That's not because I was popular or a jock or super hot or anything, it's because I tried to define myself the same way you seem to be doing. It seems as though you want to be part of the popular crowd, but you know what, it might suck, but somtimes it's just not going to happen. Life's not fair. If your mom doesn't drive a Benzo, sometimes you're just automatically excluded from the cool kids group. It blows, but you can't (or rarely can) change it.
But that's not what you need to work on. Half of your post related what you
don't have, you don't have a girl, you don't have a first kiss experience, you don't have a sex experience. Cut it out, man! Look at what you do have. I don't know what you do have, but there's got to be something that you're good at, somthing that you can do better than others, something that's yours. Build on that. Judge yourself by who you are, not by how others see you. Just remember, everyone, from guys like you to the pimpest DJs that have ever lived have had to deal with self-doubt and insecurity at some point. Anyone who denies that simple fact is still dealing with it. I was probably worse than most. I came from a seriously poor family and our house happened to be right on the edge of the school district that included the poshest homes in town. So while I'm getting a ride to school in my mom's Subaru Justy (glorified golf cart), other kids are getting dropped off at school by chauffers in Rollers or limos. Not the best for self-image, I have to say. I always felt like I was less than them. I always got harrassed about my clothes or the fact that I brought a bag lunch while others were having meals brought to them by their parent's employees. I wasn't
seen at the popular hangouts because I couldn't afford to get there, much less do anything once I was there. But, on the weekends. I was racing. I started with karts when I was eight, and by the time I was 16, I had a fake ID and a guy who recognized my talent who let me fill in for his regular drivers when they couldn't make it. When I was out there, everything was different. I think the primary draw to racing for me was always just to prove to myself what my abilities were. It was never really about competition for me. I was just as happy by myself on a test run as I was with 40 other cars running. Sometimes, it was just about being alone, hidden behind a tinted visor, separate from the world. One with the car, as cheesy as that sounds. I didn't have to care if I finished my homework, or whether some girl liked me, or whether the entire east end of Brooklyn wanted to kill me. The car and the track were all that mattered. I was so comfortable in the car, like it's what I was born to do. And one day, it just hit me like a ton of bricks. Why am I different here? I know exactly who I am in here. There is no doubt. There is no worry. There is only me, and in here, I like me. When I crawl out of the car, I can get laid by any number of girls who are just turned on by what I do in here. When I get out of this car, I have men three, four times my age calling me "sir" because they saw what I could do in here and they respected it. So I thought, "why the hell do I care what some high school football player thinks of me?" I was good at something outside of school, and that's all it really took to make me realize that the people judging me so badly in school, just didn't know jack about me (ok, it was partially that and partially the girl that I met at that time that I'm still obsessed with, but that's a different story for a different thread).
Hgh school football players. Fvck em. Seriously, what do they have? In ten years, all of the accomplishments that they are so proud of now will be nothing but pictures on their assistant manager desk at Discount Tire. They have their lives turned so ass backwards, it's not even funny. I see that crap so often with the so-called "in crowd" in school. Like I said, I wasn't popular by any stretch of the imagination, and for a while I tried to fit in with the cool kids and always failed miserably at it. Years later, maybe two years after graduation, I was roadracing sports-cars semi-pro, heading a team for the guy who had given me the first chance way back in the day, and doing fairly well at it, plus I had a spot as a backup driver for a Group N Alfa Romeo team in Europe. I had a 2000 Lincoln LS as my everyday car, not bad for a 20 year old kid. I had found my true self after all of those horrible years in high school. One day, I rolled into a little sh!tball deli in a little sh!tball town outside of where I used to live. In there was the prom queen of my graduating class, one of the hottest girls I had ever seen at the time, and one of the more snotty, stuck-up, vain people I had ever met as well, working the counter, making sandwiches for soccer moms and sleazy lawyers. There I was living the life that I wanted, making good money, driving a brand new Lincoln that I paid cash for, jet setting around the world and the country racing, and getting girls left and right for it (the phrase racing driver drops panties in a rather deafening fashion), and she was making sandwiches. It might make me a bad person, but when she came around the counter and hugged me, saying "Hey Will! It's Nicole! You look great, how have you been?" I tell you, I got so much joy out of saying, "woah, hang on, do we know each other?" To see her face drop like a lead rake was priceless, and it's one of the images I'll take to the grave with me. There she was, teling me that she was not in college, not in a relationship, making $15k a year with bonuses, working a double shift for a girl who decided to take a quick vacation to Mexico. Even though I remembered perfectly who she was and everything that I thought she meant to me, I still made like I didn't have a clue. Here she thought she was so damned important to everybody, getting dissed by one of the uncool kids just seemed to break her in half. Sometimes when I think back, I feel bad about it, but I had to do it. It was like it was the final link between the teenage me that I didn't like and the adult me that I really like.
I'm not telling you all of this to try to brag, I'm telling you so that maybe it will help you see that bad times in high school are almost universal, but if you try hard enough, you can move up out of it. High school sucks, but it's over soon and then you get the real task of living, the one that matters. Define yourself, don't let others do it, excel at what you do, constantly strive to improve yourself, never let the small sh!t break you down too much, and concentrate on the truly important things in life and you'll do fine.
You'd damned well better not be. If I find out you killed yourself over insignificant high school drama, I will personally come to your funeral and beat some damned sense into you, got it?