Glimpse of Us

In Tongues

*** *** ***

Terrorists.

Oppressors.

Bombers.

Killers.

Goat Eaters.

Woman Haters.

Perverts.

Strict.

I've never told any of my teachers or friends that I'm Muslim.

Would they think of me differently?

Hate me?

Look down upon me?

Be disgusted with me?

Ignore my presence?

Probably.

I live with the burden of dealing with guilt because I would rather keep my religion a secret from people just so that they would look down on me.

The world is different now.

You get support when you think you're the wrong gender, but you get shamed and laughed at for believing there's such a thing as God.

I can feel their eyes piercing into me as they stare with confusion and hate, sometimes even pity. They look at me strangely because I'm covered from head to toe.

There are women all already me showing their bottoms and cleavage, yet I get all the disgusted glances.

Oppressed, they say.

Do you believe we're the oppressed ones?

I would feel more oppressed if I constantly had to show off my body or look a certain type of way in front of others just to get their attention.

I don't care if people choose to wear miniskirts or if they choose to display their bodies to everyone, but when you're throwing me disgusted looks or telling me I'm ''oppressed'', you're the one who's being oppressed by societal standards.

Islam has nothing to do with ethnicity.

Not every single Middle Eastern person you meet is Muslim.

Not every Muslim you meet is from the Middle East.

I owe everyone an explanation.

I have to explain that I'm not a terrorist.

That my parents didn't force me to wear a hijab.

That I have nothing to do with countries that use Islam as a political stance.

Countries like Iran or Iraq kill women because they aren't covered.

That is not Islam.

A lot of people ask me if I get hot or sweaty when I wear a hijab, and the truth is that I do sometimes.

I love wearing the hijab because it makes me feel safe in so many ways, it's like a cape or a shield.

I feel naked without it, vulnerable, scared, and afraid.

I feel like a crab without its shell.

There's no point in wearing the hijab if you're being forced to, or if you don't want to wear it.

That goes against what we believe.

I didn't start wearing it for myself, my parents, or anyone else.

I did it for God.

I have an uncle who thinks that Muslims and Hindus are the same things because in his pea-sized brain the Middle East, India, and Pakistan are the same thing.

This all started a few weeks ago, my mom and aunt were having a conversation and my mom said something along the lines of ''Oh my god'', to which my uncle said ''yOu CaN't say ThAT, ArEn'T cOWs YoUR gODs?'' total dumbass.

I know I can't speak for all Muslims, but I know that I can say for myself:

I don't hate you because you're not Muslim or because you dislike Muslims.

You're free to hate me or love me.

I won't force you into being Muslim.

You don't have to accept me or my beliefs, but that doesn't mean you have to make yourself look like a clown while trying to put me down.

I will always love my religion.

I will always wear my hijab.

Yes, I do get looks and people look at me as if I'd just decapitated their puppy right before their eyes, but honestly who cares? Humans will never stop judging others because that's how we are and at the end of the day, I believe in the philosophy of only allowing people who think of me as important to have any impact on me.

I won't ever change, not for anyone.

As long as you're comfortable with yourself, don't change for other people.

Change for yourself.

Afterthought

*** *** ***

If you'd asked me 7 years ago what a Muslim was I would look at you as if you'd named a new species or something, I was that uncultured and ignorant, then again, I was also around 11 and I believed in tooth fairies.

People say there's bliss in their ignorance.

Sometimes I wonder if that's true or not.

I grew up with Catholics and Christians all my life.

I didn't know that other monotheistic or even polytheistic religions existed.

I also didn't know a word of English until I was transferred to a majority-white school.

I learned English within three months of starting first grade.

I remember trying to communicate with my teachers but they never understood me, nor did I understand them.

Sometimes I wonder if the people around me speak the same language I do because I never seem to understand them either.

I would normally do signs or motions whenever I wanted something.

There was a big fish tank at the entrance of the school, and I would do little wave motions with my arms at my teacher to tell her I wanted to see the fish.

There were times when I would cry and even run away.

Our classroom was directly across another room, and one time I ran out but I missed the hallway and ran straight into the other room.

Crying.

My family and I lived in a trailer park that wasn't as run down as how most people perceive them to be, but it certainly wasn't anything special

It consisted of two rooms that are just a bit bigger than my closet in the house I live in now, one of them was shared between my uncle and my grandma, while the other was where my mom and my dad slept.

I don't have many good memories of living in that trailer house everything I can remember seems to have some sort of negative aspect to it.

My mother said I once almost died in a fire that took place in our trailer because my dad was messing with electrical wires, but I don't remember that because I was only 2.

I still remember all the other bad things like how my dad would scream at my mom because he didn't have clean jeans.

It makes sense because our brains are wired to remember bad memories far easier than happy ones.

We have such messed up brains.

Sanctuary

*** *** ***

You were supposed to be the first male to love me.

I was supposed to be your second love.

You waited 9 long anxious longs for me.

You were so excited about meeting me and being there for me.

Your plans changed, though.

You decided to leave my life before you even entered it.

It's a meme nowadays, being fatherless, and it's so overly used as an insult.

I felt some type of way about that because some people miss their fathers, but now I laugh at the whole fatherless insult.

Do I feel bad that you wanted nothing to do with us?

Always.

Do I feel bad for my mother who had to work separate jobs to raise two kids on her own without your help?

Yes.

Do I hate you, my dear father?

Yes.Maybe.Sometimes.No.Yes.

I don't hate you for leaving us, I hate you for coming back after you left us, only to leave us again. I also hate you for everything you made my mom go through, she didn't deserve it.

Remember when all of a sudden you wanted to come back into my life?

No, dear daddy, that is not how it works.

I remember you hugging me, asking me if I remembered you or not.

God, I believed you were back for good and that you wanted to be my father now.

The saddest part is I actually believed that, and so did my mom.

Here's the thing about people who do drugs: drug addicts don't change.

Not even for their kid

So you started doing drugs again, shooting weird substances in your veins when you were supposed to be spending time with me and my brother, literally in the living room which was a few feet away from the bedroom that you would stay in.

Do you know how whenever TVs are off, there's a little red light at the corner of them? Yeah, well my father believed people were watching him through that little light.

My sweet father, why were you suicidal?

What was it that you were going through that made you want to do this?

Lisa.

Lisa.

Lisa.

My dad started talking to this woman, her name was Lisa, and she was tall and lanky.

God, they were so alike, almost like a match made in hell.

She also liked shooting things into her veins and had a thing for smoking things that were slowly killing her lungs.

She was nice.

That's what 11-year-old me thought.

She liked getting her nails done and had a thing for straightening her hair.

Eventually, she convinced my dad to let us go meet her family who lived around 30 minutes away from the city.

At first, he said no because he didn't have enough money for gas or food, and that's where I stepped in at the time.

I wanted to meet her family, suddenly this woman who liked doing her nails and had a son who also liked video games seemed worth paying for the whole trip myself.

I paid for it all.

My money.

Food, gas, and cigarettes.

Drugs.

My dad was a very heavy druggie, he even had to audacity to take me to the place where he bought his drugs, and he even asked if he could borrow some money.

He didn't want five or ten dollars, no, he wanted my life's savings at the time: 142 dollars, which he never paid me back like he promised to.

I feel like a clown looking back now, but I still let him do it because I was scared to say no to him.

I can't help but wonder why Lisa chose the hard life over such a comfortable life. I mean, her family wasn't all that bad, they lived in a nice home and a few acres of land.

Maybe she had her reasons.

So yeah, the iconic pair, my dad and Lisa.

In a way, it was fate, two people who threw away what was probably their best shot in life for something that wasn't worth losing.

That was around 6 years ago.

Now he's in jail for an unrelated reason.

Dad, you still call my mom and try to talk to us.

I see the digits from the city you're jailed at and see my mom delete your messages.

Why now?

Maybe one day I'll decide to talk to him and show him what he chose drugs over.

I don't always think about him or always feel bad, but there are times when I wished we were worth it in his eyes. Times when I pretend I'm a normal girl with a normal father.

Sometimes I envy my baby sister because her father lives with us and he's a good person, a good person.

But for now, all I feel is betrayal and a bit of hurt.

If I had to ask my father one last question it would simply be: ''Why?''

Maybe he didn't love us enough or care enough.

I'm sorry, dad but tattooing my name across your chest isn't a way of showing me you care about me.

Even if you were in my life right now, I doubt it would be any different.

You would still be doing drugs.

And I would still believe you were trying your hardest, all while wishing you were gone.

Albert Einstein said insanity is doing something over and over again and expecting different results.

Kilig

*** *** ***

The first boy I ever loved knew I loved him, but he still managed to break my heart anyways.

I've always believed that the heart can truly ever love one person.

A little more than a year ago, I met a boy who was one of the biggest wonders I've ever come across.

Matthew.

Matthew.

Matty.

Matt.

Matthew is around two years older than I am, which makes him 19. At the time, he was working at Publix and lived in New Jersey where he stayed with his father.

The way we met was super unconditional and limiting.

It all started with a video game.

Yes, a video game.

The date was 04/26/21.

I still have it marked on my calendar, even after a year without talking to Matthew.

It was just a casual day of slaughtering people until I realized that one player was using a weapon power that cost $100. Who spends that amount of money on weapon power?

He.

I proceed to call him to pay to win player and boom, that was it, we were best friends.

Fast forward to maybe a month, we're still talking and we've become really good friends.

He told me about his father who was only letting him stay with him because of his welfare check, told me about his ex-girlfriends, and other fun stuff.

The best part about him was his musical taste.

I had my Discord linked to my Spotify, so the people who I had added as my friends could see what song I was playing and he had him on too.

I only noticed when I saw the title ''Running through the 7th with my Woadies'', a song by two of the best artists, $uicideboy$.

We would play video games for hours and hours.

He even bought me in-game currency and wanted to buy me Dead By Daylight (a pretty expensive video game), but he claimed my PC couldn't run it because it was so trashy.

IT'S NOT, AND IT CAN RUN IT.

I think it had been around 5 months since we first started talking that he told me he loved me and that I was his ''4LIFER'', which I had no idea meant best friend in a slangy way until I looked it up.

I said, ''Ewwww, don't call me that''

''why not? you're my 4lifer'' he said.

As time went on I think I did come to love this boy, I couldn't help it. I knew I cared about him a lot and that he was my best friend, but I felt like I cared about him enough to love him. I mean, this boy was so unbelievably good to me and made me laugh. Boys never did that with me most boys avoided me up until 9th grade.

Eventually, he was the one who called me out and asked me if I loved him, to which I said yes. He also promised he'd wait until I was closer to his age for us to become anything because he didn't want things to be weird between us.

I don't understand. Why is the age gap between 15 year old and an 18-year-old so big? He wasn't perverted towards me, he didn't take advantage of me or anything.

Time passed and he started going through some things, but I didn't know how to help him. I've always been bad at helping others, and he was no different. I tried hard to help him out and make him feel better.

It didn't work.

He told me that it wasn't fair that he was there for me and that I couldn't even do that for him. He thought I didn't care about him, so he decided to take a break.

That lasted for about a week, and then he started talking to me again and told me he couldn't do it. Nothing changed though, it was still as if he was taking a break because he didn't talk to me a whole lot.

I thought everything was fine, that he just needed a break. It was all going to be okay because he told me he would wait for me and have patience.

He didn't wait though, and I don't blame him. He started talking to different girls and dating around.

I was super hurt but I didn't say anything. Matthew made me happy, and if he was happy with those other girls, I was okay with it.

He still talked to me and made time for me, we were still friends but I never expressed my anger towards him for not waiting for me.

I was mature about it and let it go, like the idiot I was.

I didn't realize how much I loved him until a year after we stopped talking. I still hadn't forgotten about him. I still haven't to this day.

The whole thing went wrong, from it being all online to me not telling my parents. If I could go back in time, I would start there, because that's where all the real trouble began.

I don't hate Matthew, you know? I don't blame him for dating or for continuing to live his life or moving on.

He probably doesn't even remember me.

I'll always love him in some way, there's not a day that goes by that I don't think of him and everything he did for me.

That's the thing about the first person you love, you'll search for them in everyone.

Only to find out there's nobody like them.

There were other crushes, of course, but nothing like Matthew.

For example, there was this one boy in my PRE-AP class in 7th grade who I thought I loved.

His name is Wells, that's what he goes by because his first name is a tad bit weird. The reason I loved him was because of how kind and quiet he was, unlike the rest of the boys at my school. He had this Harry Potter look, too.

Glasses. Black Hair. Blue Eyes. SMART.

I noticed him since 6th grade when he was taking the same elective classes, but he was home-schooled during 7th grade, that was until he came back in 8th grade.

I honestly could not believe it. Wells. The Wells. He was in my class. I didn't realize until maybe 3 days after the first day of school because I was getting used to the whole 8th-grade life.

He changed a lot, like..a lot. He was suddenly way taller than me and had such beautiful eyes, and he was a really big LSU fan.

That was important information because I started wearing LSU merch, cringe, I know. I needed to have some sort of common ground to talk to him. It was a dumb attempt to do it, and a very poor one at that because I didn't know anything about LSU.

I hated sports.

HATE HATE HATE HATE.

Ever since that one Pep Rally when someone hit me with a basketball, I've hated sports and Pep Rallies.

I also really hated PE, what's the point of it?

I remember getting in trouble for only being able to do one push-up, how is that my fault? My gym coach said something along the lines of ''YOU CAN DO BETTER THAN THAT DOLL'', cringe much?

The most ironic part is that I ''did'' Track in 7th grade. Notice the quotation marks? Yeah did is in quotation marks because I wasn't really on the Track team.

I mean, I paid the fee, of 180 dollars, but I never was any relays or competitions. I only went to practice and went to some relays, but even then I sat in the stands and watched the rest of my ''teammates'' participate.

I would always sign up for stuff but I never went because I didn't want to embarrass myself. I was only really on it because my cousins were doing it and because I had free time after school.

I noticed a lot of things about him because I was always searching for him in the hallways and stuff.

I gathered a bit from just looking at him.

1. He brought his lunch from his house, but he never ate any of the cafeteria food. He knew it was disgusting.

2. He liked basketball and football, specifically college football.

3. He always had some sort of water bottle with him.

The Person: ''You know that short girl, black hair who wears those enormous glasses from your English class?''

Wells: ''No?''

The Person: ''Well, sHe LiKeS yOu''

Wells: ''Sounds disgusting''

Now, I know he would never say anything like that, he was too kind. Maybe he didn't say something that rude, but I know he didn't like hearing that, I mean, who would?

UGHHH, I just want to find out who did it! I wish I could've known. I would have choked the person who ruined it.

Wells didn't seem to care though, because he was still the same quiet, kind boy he was before he knew I liked him.

I remember one time I ran straight into him and fell right in front of his locker because some idiot didn't pick up their backpack and put it in their locker like they were supposed to!

He laughed because I immediately turned red and apologized to him, he was it was okay and SMILED.

Then there was this one time all his papers fell out of his locker and

I helped him clean it up.

He said thanks.

Yeah. One word. That one word made me feel super happy. It only took one word from him to make me smile.

I mean, even my English teacher knew I liked him.

He would always make these annoying comments when Wells was nearby just to make me flustered.

I felt so bad for Wells because he was getting unwanted attention all. After all, I liked him.

The difference with the people that I like is that I don't like them for their looks, money, social status, or anything like that.

It's because they're..them.

Wells wasn't Matthew.

I wish he was.

I loved Wells, yes, but I wasn't in love with him.

Matthew will always be the only boy I will ever be in love with.

I feel sorry for my future husband because he won't be the one who won my heart first.

There's always a common trend among the people I find interest in and start to love, but I can't quite place my mind around it.

I will always be hopelessly in love with memories.

Laconic

expressing much in few words

*** *** ***

you are all my bright colors in one.

Delirium

*** *** ***

Was a 15-year-old supposed to be feeling this way?

In love?

I hate how people assume teenagers can't fall in love, they say that we're infatuated or that we're in lust.

Why is it so hard to believe that a teenager can feel true love towards someone without there being any lust in their feelings?

It makes me angry because I was truly in love and I didn't want to tell an adult because I was scared of what their reactions would be, would they have judged me? Been disgusted by me?

I wanted to, I wish I had told my mother about the love I had, but I couldn't.

That's the one thing I'm changing because the next time and the last time I fall in love with someone, I am telling my mom.

I've searched and read tons and tons of articles, studies, and journals about what love feels like and how you know you're in love.

Especially romance books.

Why are they so accurate?

The answers all seem the same and repetitive, but they're not too far off what I felt.

I felt all the things that the girls in romance novels talk about when they're in love.

I felt loved.

It felt like a flower had grown inside of me.

Literally.

My stomach felt like beams of sunshine were shining at it directly.

Stay close to people who feel like sunshine.

Him

my love.

*** *** ***

I don't know where you are or who you're with. I don't know if you're alive or dead, sad or happy.

I miss you so much. I feel pain when I think about you.

I think about what we could have been together.

You always made me feel important, loved, valued, and so much more.

Remember how you'd send me pictures of what you were making for breakfast?

For that one time, you sent me a picture of scrambled eggs with some red stuff on them.

I asked you if it was tomatoes.

You told me it was ketchup.

I laughed because only weird people eat their eggs with ketchup.

Did you ever go to culinary school as we talked about?

You were always bragging about how good of a chef you were and telling me about your Italian side.

Remember when you said we'd get married? And how you wanted to meet my parents?

I'd go to medical school while you were finishing up culinary school while starting a restaurant.

God, you were such a dreamer.

Such a beautiful dreamer.

Did I ever tell you that your eyes were the most beautiful green eyes I'd ever see?

I probably didn't.

My shyness kept me from it.

You were always the one who was all about making me blush.

Teasing me about how my whole face turned red when you'd say something sweet.

It wasn't just because they were green, it was also because they were your eyes.

Sometimes I'd wish I could magically transport to you, and we could lay under a sky full of stars.

That's when I'd say ''The moon is beautiful, isn't it?''

You'd give me a weird look and be confused.

You wouldn't know that this had another meaning to it because you weren't into anime or Japanese novels.

But it translates to ''I love you''.

Everything about you was beautiful.

I loved you so much, you were my dream boy.

Haha.

I remember how you'd call me trash at the games we'd play, but you were only better because of the hacks you would use.

You were always making me rage quit, you knew how mad I'd get once you'd start streaking on me.

Remember when we matched Roblox characters and usernames?

That was so cute.

Or when we had matching Discord profile pictures?

I wish I would have talked to you when you called me.

I didn't because I didn't want to stutter.

I was too shy; I didn't want to stutter or slip up.

I still remember your voice.

Your laugh.

The weird faces you'd make when you'd send selfies. You even flipped me off in one of them.

How you called me your world

your princess.

beautiful.

I wish I could've met you in real life too.

For some reason, I also have this vision of us in Japan with fireworks going off in the background and me looking up at you and telling you that you're my world.

But I also remember how you chose to not wait on me.

Why didn't you wait on me? Did you stop loving me?

I never did.

Even after everything, I still love you.

I want to meet again as strangers.

Imagine that.

Us meeting again in the future, could we, do it? Could we go back to how we were?

This is my absquatulate.

I'm leaving you without saying goodbye.

I will never stop loving you.

I'll just learn how to live without you.

But I'll always want to go back to the days when you were almost mine, and when I was always yours.

Ataraxia

a state of freedom from anxiety and emotional disturbance

*** *** ***

Sometimes I wish I was normal.

Normal.

Not perfect.

Not unique.

But normal.

Because that's far from what I am.

I wish I had moments of tranquility.

Times when I didn't feel like I was in a simulation or when I wasn't questioning if I was real.

When I wasn't so emotionally drained.

Times when I was normal.

Naufragous

shipwreck

*** *** ***

One of the worst feelings in the world is knowing that you're afraid of yourself.

I know I'm here and that I'm a person. I can feel my hair, my skin, and my heartbeat but I still feel as if I'm not here.

It feels like I'm looking at myself from a screen or something, sometimes my whole body goes numb.

I suffer from anxiety, depersonalization, and derealization.

I remember being 13-14ish and I would just think to myself ''how can people feel things like that?''

Those were times when I didn't realize that I would go through all the things that I thought a human could never and should never feel.

Alexithymia.

The inability to describe my emotions verbally.

It's hard to explain what I feel because half the time I feel like my head is messing with me and that I'm just driving myself crazy.

I can't exactly describe how I feel from time to time, but I know I never feel quite right.

The best possible way I can explain is that I feel here but I see things in the third person and sometimes I can't feel my face or my body.

I like to pinch myself a lot, and sometimes I'll even like, talk a bit just to make sure I'm still here.

I have a weird mentality but basically: If I pinch myself or hear my voice, I feel more alive.

One thing I avoid doing is looking in the mirror too long because if I look too long, it makes me confused, and I start to question if that person is me.

The longer I look the more I think ''It's never me in the mirror anymore...not really''

So, I avoid mirrors.

Anxiety is another weird thing because it's totally out of my control. I get worried about things that aren't important and I make myself feel sick because my brain thinks everything needs a ''fight or flight'' response. I get all sweaty and numb, it's a horrible feeling, honestly.

I try to believe I'm not crazy but it's so hard to not believe you're going insane after going to tons of doctors' appointments and them telling you there's not wrong with you and that you're not dying.

I remember the first time I ever truly got scared and felt like I was dying, it's super funny, and my brother tends to get a good laugh from it as well.

It all started because of a light switch and a door.

Seriously.

I made the mistake of turning off the lights before I could open the door. I couldn't see anything. I tried to feel my surroundings for a door handle but nothing. I felt trapped and the room was suddenly caving in on me and I started to scream.

This scared my brother more than it scared me because he had no clue why I was screaming.

I had to go to the ER a few times and they did a few tests to see if something was wrong because I kept telling my mom I felt horrible, nothing was wrong.

It was all in my head, just like the other 97% of things that I believe are true. I refuse to believe I'm crazy.

I can't get a bit of chest pain because then I start thinking I'm dying.

If you're wondering how I'm dealing with it today the simple answer is I'm not.

I like to ignore it and fight is as best as I can, I still get some anxiety attacks though.

I still wake up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat, calling out for my mom

I still feel numb sometimes.

I still can't recognize the person who's looking at me in the mirror.

I deal with depersonalization every single day, and I've come to terms with knowing that there's absolutely nothing I can do about it.

I've come to peace with knowing that I won't always feel great.

It will be ok.

Solandis

a delicate flower

*** *** ***

Skinny.

Fat.

Skinny.

Fat.

Skinny.

Fat.

Ugly.

Pretty.

Ugly.

Pretty.

What am I?

I hate looking at my face and body.

I don't look like those plus-size models or those skinny models.

I hate my body.

I love my body.

Sometimes I feel too skinny.

Sometimes I feel too fat.

Sometimes I feel too ugly.

Sometimes I feel too plain.

I want to be as delicate as a flower.

Ikigai

the reason for my being.

*** *** ***

There's only one person in this world that I would do anything and everything for, the reason for my being.

My Ikigai.

My mother.

I feel like most people don't realize this until they're in their late ages, but mothers are such amazing people.

I swear, my mom is the reason why I try so hard, the reason why I want to do good things and if it wasn't for her, I wouldn't care about my life.

I think about everything she's done for me, what she's doing now, and all the things she's had to go through because of me.

She doesn't have to do all this; she can give up on me at any time, but she doesn't.

I'm not sure I would do the same if I was her daughter.

A mother's love is such an amazing thing to have because trust me, a mother is one of the only people who won't let you down.

I think about all my mistakes, how much I've hurt her or let her down, and yet she's still rooting for me. Someone who is such an amazing woman has faith in me, and I'd be an idiot if that wasn't a big enough incentive for me to do good things in life.

Mom, you're probably going to read this because I'll probably tell you I'm working on a story in the next week, and I'll eventually show this to you.

I hope you see it because writing is the only way I can express myself, even though my writing is done so poorly.

You're one of the strongest people I know, and I know I've let you down so many times, but I want you to know that I promise to do my best to make it up to you. You're my biggest inspiration.

I know I'm not always the most productive person, but I do try hard.

I know I mess up. A lot.

Don't give up, hang in for me, just for a bit more.

Just like how you're always telling me that the only reason you're working hard is for me and my siblings, I'm only working hard for you and no one else.

I will never be half the mother you are now, but I know I'll at least have done one thing right, and that's enough for me.

The heart is an amazing thing. It can shatter and still beat at the same time.

Because no matter what we're going through or the hardships that we go through, I know we'll get through it because of you.

Metanoia

the journey of changing one's heart, mind, or way of life

*** *** ***

The date is August 1st, 2022, I am not only exactly 7 days from starting my junior year at my high school, but I'm also 14 days away from starting my first-ever college class.

Most people would be dying on the inside, but I'm super excited to start those classes.

I love school and I would be extremely bored without it since it's probably the only way I can make my brain function correctly.

I'm even more excited to start school because of the college classes I'll be taking, which sounds absurd because who in their right mind like college?

Me.

There is a really big difference between college and high school, like, big difference.

High school is literal child's play compared to college.

Take my advice now: Do not try to study the night before the test, it won't work like it did in high school.

One major difference is that college tests are structured very differently, for example, the tests have similar answer choices that ALL look the same, but there's only one correct answer.

I took a college orientation class during the summer because I was required to take part in Dual Enrollment.

I, luckily, got enough points to pass and I'll be able to take college credit classes when school starts next week.

I didn't always like school, nor did I always have all A's.

Ever since I started school up until 8th grade, I didn't care about grades. Like most teenagers, the things I cared about were stupid.

Boys.

Popularity.

Looks.

Boys. Boys. Boys.

I didn't have a wake-up call until 8th grade, and that was when I began to work hard and realized what was important.

Of course, I couldn't have done that without the teachers I had. I feel like if I didn't have the teachers I did, I probably would've failed. My biology teacher, 8th-grade History teacher, and my 7th-grade PreAP teacher all were some of the greatest teachers I had.

I didn't always like my teachers though, like my 5th-grade teacher, Mrs. Cone.

Or as I like to call her, Mrs. Cone Head.

She was an actual menace to my whole class and would ruin my day all the time, I'm talking constantly picked on me to read/answer math questions (when I did not want to) and called my mom because she claimed I was being 'disrespectful'', and never minded her own business.

One example would be the day we had a field trip and I had brought no money to pay, so my friend offered to pay for me. Of course, Mrs. Cone Head stuck her nose in and made me give back the money.

Mrs. Cone-Head had other plans though and those plans involved telling Tru that she wasn't allowed to pay for me and ended up calling my mom.

Making up a story about how I pressured my friend into apparently paying for me.

I hated her and she made my last year as an elementary school student hell.

Exuding her, the teachers who did their job correctly and weren't constantly harassing me, I don't think I would love school as much as I do now.

I'd probably even be like, a dropout or something.

Free shout-out to them, by the way.

You're all super cool <3

The years have gone by so fast, it feels like it was just yesterday when I was a freshman and still getting the hang of high school life.

I'll miss high school, but in my opinion, college is where the real stuff happens.

High school is just there to prepare you for the real world.

I can't wait until I start college though, that's where life does take a turn, for the better or the worse.

Hopefully for the better for me.

Most people my age don't know what they want to do with their lives and that's understandable, I, however, think I've got my head on a specific path.

I don't know EXACTLY what I want to do but I have somewhat of a distant goal.

I've always been interested in the medical field for several different reasons.

Like, the scrubs and the white coats?

Ugh, those are super cool because they give off this ''respect me because I'm wearing this'' vibe. If I ever get one of those white coats *crossing my fingers*, I'm never taking it off. Unless I'm showering, of course.

Here's something about choosing the medical field though, and that is that people need to have a strong work ethic.

My parents don't have a ton of money, but I'm hoping I can get a full ride.

I don't know what I'll do if I don't get a scholarship.

It won't be easy, of course.

It's worth a try though.

Hard work always pays off in some way.

Modus

Measure, manner

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I do not like living in the states because it's not the greatest place to live, however then I start to remember, other people have it worse and it makes me feel guilty, so I learn to shut up.

The only good thing about it is that you have a lot of good opportunities.

I wish everyone had free health care like the Germans do, wait, is it the Germans?

I don't know if it's Germany or not but it's somewhere in Europe.

I mean sure, if you're dying from internal bleeding, they won't let you die if you can't pay the medical bill right away, they'll just bill you later and give you two options: eat for a week or pay the bill.

It just seems so unfair to me, honestly.

Same with taxes.

It's not fair that people must pay a certain percentage every year just so that the state can have LED lights under the freeways.

Yeah, the state that I live in recently used tax money, 6 million dollars' worth of taxes, to install LED lights on one of the freeways in the biggest city in the state, just for them not to work.

Talk about the waste.

They could have been used to build schools, and hospitals, or even help low-income families.

But no, obviously having the city look nicer is way more important.

I can't complain too much because I'm at least fed every day and I don't have to worry about my parents getting drafted off to war or anything.

But if I had the choice to move somewhere else it would be Japan.

It's so beautiful there, from the photos at least. I'm not one of those Americans who are obsessed with Japanese people, I just appreciate them and their cultures.

Burgeon

a delicate flower

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The time is right.

I finally found my way in life.

I'm so happy where I am in life that it scares me.

Is it okay for me to be this happy?

I hope it is.

I feel flourish and new.