Veracity

Senior year

My parents wanted me to at least go to prom, and to graduate on a stage with my peers. The same peers who's lives I threatened in 7th grade. I don't think that's something people would be fond of being around. There was certainly going to be a sense of tension in any room I step into.
But to make my parents happy I had to do it. I went all senior year. I felt like a changed man, I played the guitar and wore beach sandals. I had long hair and a half mustache. I smoked pot, like I was a chimney. But I made the effort to go to school.
      Like I said it would be tense in any room I stepped into. I had cops waiting for my arrival on my first day back going through a psychotic chart. To make sure that type of thing never happens again. I mean for battling serious depression, anxiety, and bi polar disorder; I felt I was at my peak. I had the world on my shoulders and nothing could stop me.
That year I ended up becoming good friends with Josh. I helped him get his class work in on time and I even helped him study for finals week. I apologized on many accounts. I received many apologies as well. We squashed it and it was behind us. So it was a good year. I enjoyed prom by myself and smoked half the students and a few staff out. I wasn't popular, but I was known as the kid who just didn't really give two fucks about that place. Everyone understood I had a screw loose up there and tried to make amends, or as I like to call it friendly peers.
I was always alone and for some reason I felt people actually enjoyed my presence. For once in my life I felt accepted. I joined theater class to break my shell and it worked. I meet all kinds of artistic people. And I even did a re-enactment of the columbine shooting.
The scene was a screen play, written to try and victimize; or better yet humanize these 2 tormented young men. This kid Mikey and I decided to do this scene not only because of my past but because it brought awareness to how I felt. After the class sees the re-enactment, they are aloud a question each or guidance on how the scene could've been done better per day.
Angela raised her hand immediately.
"Why'd you threaten those girls in 7th grade" she asked.
Ms. Francesca interrupted her saying," that's an appropriate question, let move in to the next question."
It didn't bother me that she asked, in fact I was glad she did. No one ever wanted to hear my explanation, so now is my chance.
" while growing up, as some may know, my parents are old; super old. I never had a sibling. I guess I have cousins on the other side of the country but I've never meet them. I've never been accepted. I've been a loner for as long as I can remember. And when you start to get picked on because you don't have new clothes, or because your parents are old; or even just because your an easy target that won't snitch. Imagine it this way when you make rice in a pot on the stove. You put the lid on the pot and slowly bubbles begin to rise causing condensation to fall down the side of the pot onto the burner. When you apply that to a human, only so much abuse and mistreatment can cause some feelings to spill out.
I let my emotions get the best of me and I acted in a way that was just absolutely not okay. I apologized to those who were affected and I have made amends. I hope that this situation teaches you to care about on another because you never know what someone has going on outside of school."
The class applauded and cheered my little speech on. I didn't feel gratitude I felt more empowerment, in a good way. I felt my voice was being heard and it was for good reason.