Today, I will share with you a bit about my life. It is not very exciting, but I would like for you guys to get to know me better and for me to get to know you, so here are ten things about me.
- I have three little sisters (Courtney, Caroline, and Sara).
- I plan to someday get my PhD in geology.
- I have three pets that inhabit my room: a crested gecko, a leopard gecko, and a russian tortoise.
- I peaked in kindergarten. (I was super social, now I’m kind of a hermit)
- I work at an after school program at my local elementary school.
- I am sixteen years old.
- I eat a lot of candy. I’m surprised my teeth haven’t fallen out.
- Growing up, I struggled to read and was behind most of my peers.
- I love anime especially the art of it.
- This is what I look like:
Thanks for reading.
I am not naïve. I am not weak. I am not stupid. I know that people are hurting. I’ve seen it. I may not drink or have sex or smoke pot, but, my dear friend, do not be mistaken. I know it happens. Why do you look down on me? Why do look at me like a child when, in fact, I am older? It’s almost like you pity me. You pity my lack of recklessness. Well, I am afraid that palace you have built will fall. You will no longer feel like you’re on the top of the world when you wake up with a splitting headache and a few sparse memories you regret. I may hate myself for letting my teenage years pass me by. I may even hope for a another chance. I will, however, never hope that I am like you. I will never wish for your condescending glare or your harsh tongue. Do not treat me like a fragile piece of cracked china. A piece that could break with the slightest touch. Look at me as an equal. An equal with different experiences and a different past, but a fellow human being none the less.
“Don’t be like me, Emma,” my mother said with a look of desperation in her eyes. Her dark hair clung to her tear-soaked cheeks. I had made my mom cry. My heart seemed too heavy for my chest. “Don’t be stupid with your body. Don’t be stupid with your future,” she said. I wanted to tell her that she wasn’t stupid. Despite what they had told her, she wasn’t ever stupid. She was young and so was everyone else. She hadn’t done anything wrong, yet he convinced her that she was dirty. That she was something other than amazing. She didn’t do anything wrong. Why
was she is she so convinced that she was bad and a terrible person? He told her that. He did things that were worse. Things that she didn’t dare tell me at that time.
That day I had promised my mother that I would make stellar grades. I wouldn’t let boys touch me. I wouldn’t give up. Not because I wanted to, but because the look in mom’s eyes told me that she was desperate. Desperate for a child to make up for what she thought were her shortcomings. No matter how many times I’ve told her that she didn’t do anything wrong, she won’t believe me. My mother is the most beautiful, strong, and kindest woman I’ve ever met, so I’ve kept my promise.
I am the oldest. I need to turn out right. I need to stop being a child. I want to make my mother proud. So far, I have. I haven’t gone near any drugs, alcohol, or guys. I’m sixteen. I just finished my sophomore year of highschool. I sit in my room and read. I don’t hang out with my friend very much. Is this what she wants? Does she want me to isolate myself in order to become the perfect daughter? I want to go to parties. I want to be a teenager. I want to stay out late and have fun, but I don’t.
My mom and I have never had a fight that resulted in yelling. I sit and take orders and do not disobey. I don’t want my mom to think she has failed as a mother, so I don’t fight back. Some twisted part of me wants to fight. I want to tell her that she’s wrong, but I can’t. I can’t because when I look at her, everything that makes me angry melts away.
I’ve been on antidepressants for about four years and I stopped taking them couple of weeks ago. Being on meds for me was interesting. I started going on meds in the sixth grade and now I’m in the tenth. I have next to no memory of my life in middle school. I remember who my friends were and favorite teachers were, but I don’t remember any events. I don’t even remember much from last year. It’s kind of scary how much of my memories are missing. I’m hoping that I’ll be able to make memories now and maybe learn how to cope with something I’ll have to deal with forever. I also did something very stupid. When I decided not to take my meds anymore, I didn’t slowly stop taking them. I just decided to quit taking them abruptly. I felt like crap, not just emotionally, but physically. I was bloated and couldn’t focus on anything. Every time I moved, I felt like I was being shocked throughout my body. By the time spring break is over, the medicine will hopefully be out of my system. I can’t help but wonder what it will be like without them during school. I’ll keep you guys posted.
Wish me luck.
As I walk through the halls of my high school, my legs trudge through syrup. I run on a motor being powered by fumes of left over gasoline. My friends are slipping through my fingers like water and I can’t make it stop. But I don’t want to. I don’t have the energy to stop them. I’m balancing in the middle of good and bad. Emotions attempt to break into my mind, but only graze the surface. I feel nothing.
In the movies high school is a time of self discovery, parties, and living like there’s no tomorrow. The reality is it’s a time of self-hatred, drama, and stress. I was pretty disappointed when I walked through the doors leading into a hallway of lockers and I didn’t magically become beautiful with an equally beautiful boyfriend. The thing is, high school is nothing like I expected. I thought I would be going to parties and sneaking out and having the time of my life. Instead I’m sitting in my room writing a cheesy blog that only three people actually read. I went to public school for most of my education, but I am currently going to a private high school. I am very thankful for this opportunity, but the other kids in my school have been in private schools their entire life. This makes fitting in harder than it needs to be. Lets just say I was sitting alone for three months in a very crowded lunch room. Finally I found some friends. One of which I love dearly. Overall, high school is box full of condescending assholes wrapped up in a pretty bow of stress.