About two months ago, I wrote the following in a journal. “I think I’m going to skip all of my classes today because I need a “me” day. The problem with “me” days is that I need them five times a week. The problem with me is that I’m very smart and very capable (or so I’ve been told) but my laziness hinders me. Laziness. They forgot to add procrastination, self-destruction, and the inability to leave my bed to the list. The problem with me is that I’ve dealt with this before but have no idea what to do next. I should email my past teachers and ask them what I did after I sent them messages excusing my week-long absences from class due to “personal reasons.” I should stop scratching my hand in case my mom asks me if I’m okay again. I am okay. I am doing fine. But I have an itch that I cannot place, an itch that changes locations when my fingers find it. The problem with me is that I will focus on it completely until it goes away. The problem with this feeling is that it never goes away. It has always been one large itch that I cannot place.”
That was back in a time when every day I found myself curled into a ball, crying for help, yet no sound escaped from my mouth. But something inside me switched, and a monstrosity of built up, bottled emotions finally managed to break loose. I woke up on a partly cloudy wednesday in March, not planning on ditching school. I remember waking up knowing that it would just be one of “those” days. It took me almost an hour to get out of bed after my alarm had already gone off about four times. I felt lethargic, all of my movements appeared to be in slow motion and I stared at the reflection in my mirror for what seemed like 20 minutes. My mom has called me eeyore in the past. You see, each night, insomnia sweeps me up in it’s arms and dips me in the kitchen in the small glow of the oven light. Insomnia has this romantic way of making the moon feel like perfect company. Everyone tells me “try counting sheep”. But my mind can only count reasons to stay awake, so I go for walks. But underneath the moonlight, I realize that all I am doing is sleepwalking on an ocean of happiness that I can’t baptize myself in.
I’m lonely, and I think I learned that when my father left. I learned how to turn the anger into loneliness, the loneliness into business. So when I tell you I’ve been super busy lately, I mean I’ve been falling asleep watching movies on the couch to avoid confronting the empty side of my bed. But my depression always drags me back to my bed, until my bones are the forgotten fossils of a skeleton sunken city, my mouth a boneyard of teeth broken from biting down on themselves. And still, even if I tell someone this they cannot understand. But can’t you see? Neither can I.
So on that one wednesday, after I finished getting ready that morning, I walked to school just like any other day. I actually arrived to school about 15 minutes early, which was unusual because I’m notorious for being tardy. I sat down in a cold hallway, waiting for that earsplitting bell to ring and force me to sit in a classroom full of people I really don’t care about for hours on end. Not only has the academic part of school become a challenge for me, but so has the part where you have to speak with other human beings and not come off as a loser. The weird thing is, I have friends. I actually have many friends and people that care about me, but I have this selfish flaw where I choose to isolate myself on the days where I could probably use a hug. But the other thing is, in this town, I don’t feel like I fit in. When I first moved here in 8th grade, I immediately had the sense that if you haven’t been attending school here since you were in first grade then you don’t belong. It’s so cliquey. On a bad day, I drown in the crashing waves of students’ chatter and gossip. When that school bell rang, I stayed right where I was seated, and watched everyone walk away while they all held masks in front of their faces. I was tired of being just like that, throwing some fake smile on my face or laughing at something I really didn’t find humorous, just because everyone else thinks I should do so. Well I don’t, so my clumsy knees stood up from that hallway, and I walked back home with an itch I had yet to place.
When I got home, everything was calm and quiet, except for the chaos inside of my head. I didn’t even have the energy to make some food, let alone try and make up school work. After hours of lying down in my living room, contemplating every single one of my thought processes, I decided to do something. I left my house around 1 in the afternoon and started walking, not knowing where my feet would take me. After about 10 minutes, I found the most amazing place I have ever laid my eyes on. It was so, beautiful. Untouched. The clouds had cleared up by that time, and I looked out at the water. All that could come to me was tears, and more tears. I needed this. Even though in that moment I was alone, I had never felt so at home. I wasn’t quite sure why I was crying but after that feeling was over I had a smile plastered on my face. All the problems I have, they all disappeared in the instant when I combed the sand with my fingertips. It all went away, and I always forget how wonderful the world can be when you’re wearing the right pair of sunglasses.
I got home that day at the same time everyone would be out of school. I knew that later that night I would have to come clean to my parents, but it was worth the consequences. I know that it would have probably been beneficial if I stayed in school and tried my best to focus in class, but I am in dire need of finding my stability. I’ve tried my best to open up myself to others, to find a way into my brain and to tell myself that trustworthy people do exist. Even when you think you have moved on, there will always be that soft, yet always bitter pain that overcomes you when someone slips that once forgotten person’s name. Remember this, though, please remember this. I once whimpered and tasted my salty tears while my mom shook me and choked, “Don’t you ever forget where you came from”. These words reached deep into my soul and grabbed memories I prefer to leave untouched. But it also helped me stand up from the fog I was crawling in.  Don’t forget what you’ve been through, or what you’re going through. Don’t let it change you, and don’t give up. The only person that’s worth it, is you.