March 14, 2017
By , Chatsworth, CA

I am not a touchy-feely sort of person. When I am safe from the outside world in my room, sure I giggle and write fanfiction about my favorite couple from the show, Once Upon A Time and melt into a gooey romantic sap. But for me, not being a touchy-feely person means I also don't like to admit it when I'm hurting inside. Does this sound like you? I push my feelings aside and focus always, on homework and my future career. If, or when, a teacher says something to you that would make anyone cry, I do cry. But now, I cry for about two seconds before scolding myself for crying. When my mom asks me why I'm crying, I never tell her what's wrong. I just simply do my best to plaster on a fake smile and tell her I don't want to talk about it. To stop myself from crying, I think of all the poor hungry children in the world that go hungry every night and how lucky I am. It doesn't work all the time. But I'm still human. I sometimes don't like to say it, but it's true. I scold myself for every tiny mistake I make when doing anything such as taking my singing lessons, but my kind voice teacher reminds me that I'm a living human, not a robot. What matters is that we're all human beings. I sit in my room, letting each layer of stress and frustration build up in my chest. I feel like I'm going to explode, but I almost never do. I'm not one to talk about feelings; instead, I binge watch Pokemon Sun & Moon and stuff myself with mint chocolate chip ice cream. I convince myself that this dull, numbing feeling in my chest will all go away, but it doesn't. I've convinced myself that I cry way too much already. So now, every once in a while, I lock myself in my room, and I cry. And cry. And cry. And cry. Sometimes I don't even know what my tears are about. I just let it out. I have low self-esteem. I don't give myself compliments for every small victory because I am constantly comparing myself to my talented friends, and as much as I try, I can't seem to stop. I am constantly judging myself, never letting myself off the hook. The story of my life is full of mood swings and frustrations. But that's also okay for a regular teen. Being human doesn't mean you only make mistakes. My thirteenth birthday recently came. I didn't feel like celebrating. After many, many experiences with my teenage sister, it wasn't something I was excited about. It seems that we all have very different definitions of what it means to be human. Does it mean to have a heart, to be compassionate and empathetic? Does being human allow you to make mistakes constantly? For me, there is no exact definition. Whenever I search up the word, I get thousands of websites filled with scientific nonsense on our species and evolution. They're interesting and all, but unsatisfying. There's nothing else similar to being human. But we are all still human. 

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