The next time I hear you three call me as "weird" or "nerdy" I'm going to throw this baseball at you and kill you.

The next time I hear you three call me as "weird" or "nerdy" I'm going to throw this baseball at you and kill you.<br><br>Shocked silence fell over the four of us.<br><br>Suddenly, this was no longer a fun game. <br><br>This wasn't the first time I'd ever snapped. Far from it. <br><br>I'd been diagnosed with ADHD and anger issues back in school. A counselor, a psychologist, etc., etc.<br><br>Systematic desensitization seemed to help when I was a kid, but by my teens, I'd largely fallen off the path. <br><br>But now, it was back. Back with a vengeance.<br><br>The counselor told me I appeared to have a low tolerance for frustration and a difficult time focusing in social situations.<br><br>I wanted to tell her that the kids were just so *incredibly* frustrating. No matter how bad I wanted to get along with them, I just... couldn't.<br><br>But she certainly wasn't going to listen to my side of the story.<br><br>As an adult, things hadn&#039;t changed much. I still had little patience, and I'd largely given up trying to fit in with people. <br><br>But this was a new low.<br><br>I was sitting in the stands at the baseball game, watching the Toronto Blue Jays take on the Chicago White Sox. <br><br>The row in front of me was occupied by three women. Two in their early thirties, and one in her late twenties. <br><br>They were dressed in nice blouses and skirts, and had their hair done up. I don&#039;t know if they were having a girls' day out, or if they'd come with their husbands who were at work, I didn't care.<br><br>I wore a long-sleeved shirt and jeans, even though it was warm outside, because I had sun poisoning if I stayed outside too long.<br><br>I'd brought a baseball cap and sunglasses to try and protect my face, but even that wasn't enough. By the end of the game, I'd doubtlessly be bright red.<br><br>The women in front of me had spent the first three innings of the game making fun of my clothing, which apparently made me "look like a nerd."<br><br>I'd tried to ignore it. I'd taken some deep breaths, as my counselor had told me to do when she'd trained me in systematic desensitization.<br><br>I'd worked my way through each stage of the ladder, starting from *Hard to notice*, up to *Extremely frustrating*.<br><br>And I'd still snapped. <br><br>"Why don't you just fuck off?" one of the women said, standing up and turning to face me. <br><br>"Yeah, you're the one that's acting fucking weird," another added, turning as well. "Why the fuck are you bringing a baseball to a ball game? Planning on catching one or something?"<br><br>"No, I'm planning on throwing it at you three!" I snapped, holding the baseball up with one hand, and pointing at them with the other. <br><br>"What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you autistic or something? Or did you just skip your meds today?" the third woman tossed in, as the first started calling for security.<br><br>I laughed. I knew the story of the boy who cried wolf. I knew that every time I'd snapped in school, I'd been punished for it.<br><br>The other kids would have a class a week later about how bullies should be reported and not fought, while I was put in detention and lectured for my "inexcusable behavior."<br><br>I stood up, shoving past the women and towards the aisle. I didn't bother trying to explain, to plead my case. I already knew how this was going to end.<br><br>Two big security guards came over the row I'd been sitting in, which was lucky, because I'm not sure one guard could have handled me. <br><br>I'd always been big for my age, and I worked as a carpenter. Solid muscle mass, and a good four inches of height and probably fifty pounds on the guards.<br><br>But two guards, and a tazer, and I was going down.<br><br>I hit the cement floor beneath the stands, and my head spun. I didn't think they'd actually tazered me, but I was still dazed. <br><br>"Why are you causing so much fucking trouble?" one of the guards asked, his knee digging into the small of my back as he handcuffed me. <br><br>"I just...I'm just really sick of people making fun of me." I moaned, I was already starting to sober up a little. <br><br>"Well, maybe your two options are to stop being weird, or to just get used to it. Because you're definitely not weirding people out in jail."<br><br>I groaned. I'd been warned I might have problems holding down a job because of my temper. <br><br>Now I was going to add *felony assault* to the resume that already had *repeated failure to attend highschool*.<br><br>&#x200B;<br><br>I was charged with disorderly conduct and assault, and sentenced to probation.<br><br>I got back to my apartment, and cried for several hours.<br><br>I didn't know who I was anymore. I didn't know why I kept doing this. <br><br>I knew I didn't want to be "that kid."<br><br>But I couldn't seem to stop being him.