[1] The Feeling

"The feeling.

You know the feeling.

The feeling you get when someone criticizes you.

The one you get when they judge someone or something they know nothing about.

And maybe they do know something about it.

But not enough to matter.

Not enough to do anything to help.

And most days you're okay with that.

Most days.

Most days you don't mind the misunderstanding.

But some days, some days you just can't block it out.

Some days, no matter how loud your music is or how quiet the voices are, the demons take over.

And some days, that's okay.

Some days, it's okay to cry.

Some days, it's okay to hate.

And all days, it's okay to not be okay.

It's okay.

And maybe you don't see it now, looking at me standing here and talking to you.

But one day, one day, you will fall in love with someone that's broken.

And on that day, you'll see it.

On that day, you will know.

On that day you will find it somewhere within your power to do something.

That day, you will realize that the world is not a beautiful place for some.

That to some people, the home is not a sanctuary.

That to some, the parents are not protectors.

And when you understand that, you'll see why.

You'll see why they - we - cut our wrists.

You'll see why we hate ourselves.

You'll see why you must take a stand.

Because none of us will.

Because whenever we find the courage to stand up, one of you pushes us back down.

Because whenever we come to peace with ourselves, one of you ruins that peace.

Because whenever we find it somewhere within us to speak up for ourselves, you silence us once more.

Because we're not okay.

Because many days, plenty of us don't want to be okay.

And that's okay with you.

It's okay by your standards for us to hate ourselves.

You think it's okay for us to wish death would come.

You think it's okay for us to starve ourselves.

You think it's okay for us to slit our wrists and our thighs because pain feels good.

You think it's okay for us to put a gun to our heads.

You think it's okay for us to write suicide notes and swallow bottles of pills.

You think it's okay for us to jump off of buildings and bridges.

You think it's okay for us to silence ourselves.

You think it's okay for us to die on purpose.

You think it's okay.

And that's not okay.

It's not okay for you to think it's okay for us to commit suicide and self-harm.

And it's also not okay for you to cause these things.

It's not okay.

It isn't okay and it never will be if you keep throwing rocks and calling names.

It will never be okay if you carry on like this, can't you see?"

I looked up from my paper, into the mirror. At my black hair and my hazel eyes. At my dark t-shirt and my black skinny jeans. And when I was done, I turned. I was going to do this. And it was going to work.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

When I arrived at first block I glanced around nervously, setting my books on my desk and carefully setting down my paper. The teacher stood up after the bell rang and the pledge of allegiance was said, along with the announcements. She looked at us, smiling.

"As you all know, your writings in verse are due today. Please take them out so I can come around and make sure they're done." Ms. Benson walked around the room, looking between papers quickly to make sure we had an adequate amount of writing. She smiled when she saw my paper. "I hope you have a good paper today, I really enjoy listening to your work."

I gave her a small smile. "Thank you, ma'am."

She moved on, and once she was satisfied with the pieces she saw she sat down at her desk, pulling out a rubric and readying her pen. "Who would like to go first?"

She was looking at me, and although I didn't want to, I stood.

"I will, ma'am." She smiled.

"Thank you, Raelynn."

I walked up to the front of the class, holding my paper in my right hand. I reached the whiteboard and turned around, holding up my paper so I could see it better.

"The feeling.

You know the feeling...

And all days, it's okay to not be okay...

But one day, one day, you will fall in love with someone that's broken...

Because we're not okay.

Because many days, plenty of us don't want to be okay...

It will never be okay if you carry on like this, can't you see?"

I  handed my paper in, nodded to the class as they gave light applause, and returned to my seat.

"Thank you, Raelynn, that was beautiful," Ms. Benson told me.

I smiled. "Thank you, ma'am."

When she handed me my rubric at the end of the period, I smiled at the big red 108% on the top.

Maybe, maybe, I'll be okay.

But for now, no.

For now, I won't.

I am not okay.