Being the object of laughter

People like to laugh at what I do. Or tell me I'm really funny, but with a condescending giggle that tells me that they think I'm rather dumb.

They announce mistakes I've made in the past to people I don't know, to teachers, or whoever happens to be around, which makes those people laugh. I can never give my own first impression unless I'm by myself.

I usually play along in good humor, surprised by my own stupidities. But it upsets me at times, when others feel like they have the right to reveal my private life to others with the sole purpose of making them laugh. Their words do not hold any bad intentions, but it hurts nonetheless. And I don't want to swoop so low as to say, "Well, I don't know if you remember doing X that one night when you were drunk off your ass..." Though sometimes I'm tempted.

If I decide to tell a story, that's my decision. When others tell it for me, it's always distorted, tinted with an underlying smirk. 'Thank God I'm not like her.' I know, thank God.

Maybe I'm being too honest. I imagine the people who read this would feel uncomfortable, especially if you've told people my story before.

Here's the thing. It's not that I want to make the mistakes I do. Or say the weird things that I do.

I would actually prefer to be the serious person everyone is afraid of. Instead, because I laugh along and somehow stop myself from lashing out against people who make sly comments about my life, people think they can walk all over me.

But what can I do? That's the extent of my character. If other people feel they can pump up their own self esteem by laughing at my words and my actions, I shouldn't stop them. After all, I would be doing some good in their life.