When I was 6 they asked me what I wanted to be with a smile on my face and stars in my eyes I said a marine biologist. that was my response for years the same way with hope and excitement. At age thirteen I was asked the same question, but my answer was no longer to be a marine biologist it was to be happy. You see between the last question was asked till then the little girl that thought of the world as something to be conquered and bring joy to found out that the world is a cruel place that takes no hostages only victims. She no longer held the light in her eyes instead replacing it with a mask that hid her true thoughts and desires. That little girl at the ripe age of 8 discovered she was different that not only did the boys in her class catch her attention but so did the girls. that was the year she took notice in the way her family thought about non-heterosexual people. That was the year she kept her first secret from her mom. At age 9 she was moved away from the one person that knew her secret and lost all contact sending her into a spiral trying to place her feet on the ground. That was the year she found out she was pansexual. At the age of 11 she started to hate her body and didn’t want to look in the mirror disgusted with what was reflected. At the age of 12 she turned to cutting and burning herself to release the pain and frustration she felt inside of her. That year she became more secretive and insecure. The summer of her sixth-grade year she swallowed a handful of aspirin not thinking of death but of release from the hell on earth she was going through. Many people would probably wonder why she didn’t try to get help, but she grew up hearing that only white people hurt themselves. That she had nothing to be sad about. So why would she seek help only to be yelled at and told she had no reason harming herself. So, she kept it hidden. In seventh grade she was still hurting herself and by the end of the school year had tried to kill herself two more times by overdose. Still no one noticed the slowly weathering girl that faked a smile and laugh or hid her pain with sarcastic remarks and mean banter they just thought that was her personality. No one could hear her screams for help. Eighth grade came, and the girl had finally found people that cared and had found an outlet for her pain. Writing seemed to help the voices stop. It helped to let the pain flow out of her fingers and onto the tear stained pages. She was still broken but was slowly coming back together. She was still wearing her mask of deception hoping no one dared to peak under and run from the shattered soul underneath. She survives eighth grade only to be reminded of her demons and flaws. That summer she tried again to take her life almost succeeding but not quite. Still no one noticed. Entering ninth grade she starts cutting herself again and going back into old habits. The writing wasn’t enough anymore the voices were too loud and the insecurities to strong.  Music became her friend as she stayed up till 3 am scared of dreaming. A person’s dreams are supposed to their way out of reality but hers were the door to hell. That’s when insomnia became her best friend. Midway through school her uncle died this not only broke her more but had her questioning god why he would take someone so important to her away. Why he would take a piece of her life that was going well. Why he wouldn’t let her have her dad but was selfish enough to take someone she looked at as a father figure away. She was so angry and sad that no matter how much she wrote or how loud her music was it didn’t drown out the voices fighting for control in her head. As the ninth grade ended she got better and by the start of tenth she thought she had her life under complete control, but life is no fairy tale. She was thrown into drama left and right the voices dragging her under drowning her from the inside. She lost some friends and gained some friends. She found her rock and made the stupid decision to break up with him afraid she wasn’t good enough afraid that one day he would see all the flaws she did and want nothing to do with the china doll hiding under anger and false happiness. But maybe they were meant to last a little longer because she got her rock back. But in the time, he was gone she got involved in drugs and cigarettes. Finding the weed to be sweet release form reality and the cancer sticks a stress relief. Now at fifteen she sits on her bed typing a glimpse into the dark years she has experienced and giving an answer to a question that was asked to the girl with light her. At the age of fifteen if you asked me what career I wanted to be in when I grow up I’ll say an emt. But if you ask me what I want to be when I grow up I’d say alive.