Half empty

Chapter 1 - New year, new me, same bullshit.

"So you've got everything you'll need? Pens, pencils, notebook, all your stuff?" calls my mum from the living room, reclining on the maroon leather couch, her feet dangerously close to tipping over her half-empty glass of coffee. She reaches upwards to loosen her hair tie, her silky dark curls cascading down her shoulders. She shakes her hair out, letting it swirl around her face like Medusa and all her lethal loyal vipers. A true femme fatale but of course, I only managed to inherit her eyebrows. Eyebrows, God really?

"Yes I have everything, why are you even up, you have the day off" I remind her reaching for her hair tie to tame my own unruly scarlet locks, stark against my darker skin but my best friend Raquel (who's knack for making poor choices stands out in her personality almost as much) convinced me to go bold or go home so I sigh as I arrange my fire-engine red curls into a messy topknot before doing a final bag check.

"Well, I couldn't miss the opportunity to see you off on your first day back, my sweet little cherub. I roll my eyes at her, her voice oozing with sarcasm. Also, I wanted to brag about being off work all WEEK because of that infestation in the office" she cackles like a demented witch, her dark hair making her look just like a black Mother Gothel. Her vocals fit the role too since we karaoke together almost every week. 

"You're such a menace bullying a helpless teenager, sorry a sweet little cherub" she all but leaps out of the sofa startling me so much I gasp involuntarily and manage to drop my phone. I flip her off but she smiles reclining further.

 "Don't be a smartass. And anyway, if you teenagers weren't such shitstains in the first place there would be no bullying necessary. I mean seriously what the fuck is with your generation? You have TikTok as your modern-day drug dealer filling your heads with all kinds of bullshit, 11-year-olds blowing their lunch money and allowances to breathe flavored air, 12-year-olds forming gangs waving kitchen knives thinking they're the shit, 14-year-olds thinking it's trendy and cool to get knocked up by just about anyone, 10-year-olds out in bodycon dresses and booty shorts, dating as if they're old enough for zip cards, I mean you can't seriously be proud to be a part of that 'Leste" she exhales. I have to agree our generation is a pretty bad shitshow. I mean the amount of fuckups I have to encounter just at school...

"Yeah I get it, we're all little shits but the way I see it the shitstain apple never falls far from the shitstain tree so maybe your generation has some answering to do too" I counter playfully swatting her.

"Girl if you don't make like some shit and travel to school right now" my mum threatens luxuriating on the ugly couch. I pick up my bag, plug my headphones in, throw my jacket on, and kiss her on the cheek breathing in her vanilla rose scent. I swear she could be destitute, incarcerated, or rooting around the garbage and she'd still manage to smell like she'd just hit Victoria's Secret for everything they'd got. It makes our daily hugs all the more worthwhile.

"Celeste?" she calls before I leave.

"Yeah?" I reply turning around.

"If anyone gives you trouble, don't give them the time of day. You are who you are, don't let them strip that away from you. Stand your ground, you're beautiful, smart and you are enough" she says firmly. I nod blowing her another kiss and turn to leave, the sharp sound of glass shattering startling me again and a long curse from my mum, a weird comfort. She is who she is and she lives her life the way she is every day so maybe I can be who I am and I can be proud of who I am.

For context not only is it the first day of sixth form for me (a new era in itself) but it's also my first day back since I came out to basically the entire year group. Yes, I stood up in front of my friends, classmates, and teachers and delivered an assembly educating everyone on all things ace which of course led to my unapologetic coming out as aroace (aromantic asexual). It was my idea to do the ace assembly because Raquel is in charge of our Pride club at school and usually handles assemblies about pride month, underrepresented events, and important issues around the world, standing up in front of people almost every day, projecting her ideas and views without a care and checking anyone idiotic enough to be discriminatory towards anyone in slurs, hateful comments, trolling and pestering. It's one of the reasons I love her and am so proud to be her friend.

After I came out to Raquel and she had finished screaming herself hoarse, she asked if I was out to anyone else and whether I wanted to come out yet. It took me a few weeks but in the meantime, she assured me she would create more inclusivity in her pride club by educating the members on asexuality and what falls onto the spectrum as well as stocking ace and ace spectrum novels in the library and practically demanding there be space around the art and English department for quotes from said ace novels, ace activists and ace flags. It may have felt excessive to some but I loved it. It was like she was demanding there be space for me to be myself with ease and freedom. It felt like it was getting easier for others to understand who I was, which would lead to acceptance and integration. It felt like I was floating, above cloud 9 on such a high because not only was I indirectly educating people and giving queer people a safe and welcoming space just to be but I was making it that much easier for ace and ace spectrum people to grow more comfortable within their own identity as I was growing more comfortable in mine. Eventually after her pride assembly it hit me: Ace week

"So I think I'm ready" I remember telling her, my heart ricocheting.

"Really? I mean you're sure?" she queried. She already knew what I meant and enveloped me in a warm hug as soon as I nodded. I got the green light from my head of year. I had Raquel's support. I had my mum's support. I was ready. Or so I thought.

I'll never forget how I felt after I delivered that assembly. I knew how everyone expected me to feel and I knew how people were praying for me to feel but I didn't feel nervous. I didn't feel like I wanted to shrink or evaporate right there by the podium. I didn't regret opening my mouth, I didn't feel like a loser or a laughing stock. I didn't feel like there was no room for me. I didn't feel uncalled for or unwanted. I felt absolutely euphoric. I felt so much lighter, I felt like I had just shed an entire pelt of dead skin. I felt like I was gleaming, I was ascending. I felt proud. I felt free.

Cue ace-phobia, social media trolls, and harassment.

But honestly, it wasn't the blatant ace phobia, the snarky social media trolls, or the relentless harassment that really got to me, it was the lack of accountability that the school took for what had happened to me and the lack of accountability for the way that they chose to deal with the situation that really pissed me off. What pissed me off was that every other day this school would be priding themselves on diversity, preaching about inclusion and equality, integration, and validating minorities, all the while encouraging a "just ignore them" solution to my incidents as if I can just ignore these shitstains when I have to see them for 6 hours a day, 5 days a week. During extracurricular clubs, organized summer activities, and volunteering positions, around my neighborhood. Everywhere.

But this is sixth form and frankly, I don't have time for anybody's shit. I don't have to talk to or interact with them. I don't have to like them, forgive them, or exist in solidarity with them. I don't have to report situations because I'm not going to engage in them and allow situations to occur. All I am going to do is get myself to school every day, study hard, take part in extra responsibilities and opportunities for my personal statement, and get into uni. That is my only job for the next 2 years. That is my only focus.

As I approach the familiar tall silver gates, I catch sight of a large group of students eyeing me, nudging each other and laughing hysterically, several stops and she's right over theres' whispered out loud as I fix them with a pitying look while my stomach cavorts drunkenly.

Well, today is shaping up to be exactly as I predicted:

New year, new me, same bullshit.