Let me tell you how ed up my day was.

Today, people in band and choir got to go to an amusement park today because they perform there until 6 PM. Thing is, most of my friends went. There was like only 10 kids in class throughout the day, so I was alone, I felt alone…

I was in health. My teacher says she needs to speak with me because of something I wrote. I didn’t know what she was talking about, but though it wasn’t anything big.

I had a presentation today during L.A. (launage arts.) I kept shaking, sweating, turning red, and stuttering. The weird thing with me in talking the public crowds, I don’t quiet down or whisper. No. I have to be ing loud. Not the normal loud, obnoxious, loud, annoying loud. Like that one kid in class that never shuts the up till the teacher sends him out of the class, I was that kind of loud. Plus, the guys I liked in that class is in there didn’t help it.

Wait, my day is tier. I get called to the consular office because I needed to talk to him about my homeschooling I’m going to do in high school, I was going to try it for a year to see how the experience it, but then he asked why I REALLY wanted to do it because I kept fidgeting and moving in the chair, etc. I said,” I’m tired with the drama that’s happening to me lately, the bullying. I just want to take a brake over the drama so when I go back to school as a sophomore, less people would hopefully forget and not hate me.” I started to break down crying, little drops, and then a hell of a waterfall. I just couldn’t stop. After a while when I got better.

He asked why didn’t I tell him about the bullying and drama and if I needed help. I said,” I’m not special. Just a student that goes here against my free will. I don’t want things worst and having people be involved with me.” He understood and told me if it gets worse to come see him. I nodded and left. My eyes red and puffy, tear stains on my check and tears still rolling down.

I go get my stuff in the science room because I was leaving early due to a fever I had. My health teacher is also my science teacher. She said she wanted to talk to me before I go. I told her it was fine because my mom wasn’t going to get here till late like always when she picks me up from school.

“So… last night, I got to read you Surviving High school Questions and your answers… they just broke my heart. I thank you for answering truthfully, but your answers just hurt me…” her eyes grew watery, so did mine.

“I’m sorry. Which of my answers gave you a hard time?”

“It’s not like that. Don’t say sorry either, it’s totally fine… I just wish you knew how amazing you are.” I chuckled. “Really you are… Look, I’ll read the answer that broke my heart the most.” She flips to question 16, the ‘if you really knew me’ question. “If you really knew me, you’d know there’s a part of me no one knows that’s growing stronger every day. That part is sick, twisted, and dark. And I’m so ready to give up to it, I mean what does it even matter? I’m already dead inside.” I cried to cry a bit, not because I wrote it. Because she read it, because she cared…

“That one conseres me, but not as much as this one did.” She starts to read the second one I wrote since we need to write three. If you really knew me, you would know how much I hate myself. How much I hate my body. How much I hate my personality. You would know how much I struggle to be perfect. And how my biggest wish is to be able to disappear and never come back. You would also know how I just want to be good enough. I want to be good enough for him, for my friends, and for others around me. I know it will never happen, and the thought of my failure really gets to me. Every day. If you really knew me, you would know I’m breaking down inside. You would notice my subtle hints of struggle. If you knew me, maybe you could help me. But, you don’t...” I started to ball out my eyes.

“Mackenzie, I just want to let you know you’re an amazing person, I know it sounds clique, but your amazing. One of my favorite students… You put others before you, you catch up on homework when you’re gone not like other kids do, you help others and me as much as you can, and you’re super mature for your age. I think of you more a friend then a student… You shouldn’t hate yourself.” She starts to cry a bit as well.

“Mrs. Audet, look at myself. What is there not to hate? Please don’t pity me with anymore words. I prefer to be alone and let it eat me alive, it’s what makes me feel alive. I never thought about suicide or that I have depression, but I’m just a lonely soul that is wanting, no, waiting for someone to come along and dig me out of the hole I’ve made for myself. A light. I’m sorry if I sound emo, I’m usually a happy person.” She smiles, whipping of her tears and gets herself out of her chair.

She hugs me and says,” No one deserves to let a burden to me carried alone. If you need someone, you have me. You have other friends. You have people.”

“It’s your job to be there for me. Friends come and go, I have no one.” She hugs me tighter.

“I’m your friend, not your teacher, remember?” I start to ball, just plain scream crying it just hurt so bad.

After our crying session, she says she has to get lunch while I have to get my other classes before my mom gets here. I go to math to get my math extension work. The teacher Mrs. White was in there. She gives me my assignments, but asked why I was crying.

I told her,” Happy people don’t cry, I’m just sick. That’s all.” Tears flow down as I get my other classes work, kids walk past me noticing my tears. I don’t wipe them off or hide them. I ignore then when they ask me what’s wrong.

I want them to see what they’ve done to me. To make me cry. I don’t give them the satisfaction of hearing my voice in sorrow, only to make them feel good on what they’ve done. I let them see it.

I wait in the nurse’s office for my mom, still not being there yet. Tears still flowing. I and the nurse are tight because I go to the nurses’ office at least 3 or 4 times a week. Usually to say hi or I’m sick. She asked why I was crying. I tell her the same thing I told my math teacher, but then she says,” You know, the weakest people cry without meaning and making others feel sorry of them, but the strongest people cry with the pain they’ve been hiding and try to not let others notice… you know which one you are right?”

I starts to cry again, she comforts me. Telling kids walking in on some dumb excuse trying to go home to wait in the hall. I cry I’ll my mom gets me.

I’m still crying as I write this… what’s wrong with me?