Save me from myself.

August 23rd

What is the purpose High school? No seriously think about it for a second. Is it supposed to help you with your adult life? I'm pretty sure nobody needs to know when Warren G. Harding was born. If you need to know that for your job, I am sincerly sorry, I feel so bad. Do people actually need to know the theory behind gravity, unless you're a scientist? Newsflash: Gravity makes things fall! So now here's my theory behind school.

I believe it's just a prison/daycare for kids; which would be why there are cameras; and why your whole day is scheduled from start to finish. Oh yeah, and along with prison nobody gives a fuck about you.  there is no middle class; you are either rich, and popular, or you're poor and on the "hit list"; which was created by Jasmine and her clique: Chelsea, Sarah, and Natasha. No one gets a chance here; you are lucky to survive lunch; that is like a crime scene all on its own.  With that all aside today was my first day of school...

I'm a "proud" Sophomore at Fresh Island high school in Chase, New Jersey.  (The fact that I put quotes around "proud" should be a pretty good indication that our school brainwashes you into thinking your school is the best, when in reality it's just a dull version of what I imagine hell is like.) The "hit list" was created last year when we were just being introduced into the gates of hell... I mean high school; so I figured it would die down; now that we know how the pecking order is lined up... let us just start at the beginning of my day. 

my day started off with me forgetting my book bag, that's right I forgot my book bag. A student, at a school! On the first day, what a great start. I went to my locker, which FYI my locker number is one, and trust me just because you are "number one" or whatever doesn't mean you should get a big head it's not all it's cracked up to be.  When students are released to go to their first class I have to stop before everyone else does to get to my locker. Do you see the harassment bait here?  I get ran into constantly, until everyone makes it to their lockers, and it's a literal cow stampede anyway; so me being locker number one just makes it a war.  I say cow stampede very lovingly, because that's exactly what you feel like; you feel like you are running to get fed, but you are also trying not to get ran over by the others.

I couldn't get my locker open to save my life, so I concluded that this year, just like the year before, my locker was going to hate me.  I finally got it opened by a teacher, and immediately regretted it.  Jasmine and the rest of her clichés filled my locker with what I lovingly call "sticky notes of hate."  They do this all the time, but so soon into the year? I had thoughts running through my head twenty-four seven, I didn't need the fake Barbie dolls helping too.  So as you can probably guess the "hit list" continues... yay. I started hating on myself as soon as I read the first note:  " What do you except us to call you? You are wearing an orange shirt; we can't help but call you a pumpkin... let's make that your new nick name too.  It also works for your huge love handles... fatty."    Well at least it's more creative than last year: The walking blueberry. Why did I insist on wearing this shirt today, I asked for it; I mean look at me I would call me a pumpkin too.

I pushed the other sticky notes aside (for fear that I would be late to my first class if I tried to dispose of them now), grabbed my notebook, and headed to my first class, which was Choir.  Here's something you don't know yet; I love singing, and acting, and dancing; which are also all reasons why I'm on the "hit list" besides being fat and ugly, anyway I'm obsessed with Broadway too.  It's my whole life; it is honestly what keeps me alive especially Seth Rudetsky, he has saved my life so many times, and he doesn't even know I exist.  Seth Rudetsky isn't a huge star but he is to me.  He does Deconstructions of Broadway songs (Breaks the song down section by section.)  He is a performer he can play piano and sing.  He also writes, and he's Broadway obsessed, just like me.  So in short, if he wasn't around, I wouldn't be either; I know it sounds stupid, but if I ever have the urge to hurt myself I just put on one of his videos and I snap out of it quite Quickly... 

Back to Choir; to me it's so much more than just reading notes on a page; you have to feel what the person would feel if they sang the song you are singing.  You have to think about the connection between the words and the melody, and just let it take you to your own little fantasy.  Since I love acting as much as I love singing; I constantly have a character and situation in my head while I sing.   Another thing that helps me is that I love my teacher.

"Hey Melody."

"Hey, Mrs. Sean.  How was your summer?"

"Good. And yours?"

"Short."  She shook her head in approval, and directed me to my seat. Then the whole class proceeded to warm up.

Here is the back story with my music teacher and I... when I was a Freshmen I was pretty screwed up, worse than I am now if you can imagine it.  I didn't have a "creative outlet" or anyone to turn to; I felt alone.  My Choir teacher saved me; the funny thing is that I didn't need to be saved from the bullies, (I still don't need to be saved from the bullies) I just need to be saved from myself.  I figured if no one at my school cared if I was gone why should I? even the voices in my head hated me, so why was I still here?  But here's the shockingly true thing about anyone who wants to kill themselves... someone will notice.   Someone, even if it's just to say how cowardly you were, will say "hey they were here" that means you did exist... Guess what? Even after all those years of trying to be invisible you're not.  No one is. Nothing is that bad, and everyone deserves to be here. You have a purpose and you have a future; sorry if that shocks you but trust me things do get better and you can find positivity in every day. Even though some days you might have to look a little harder. You just have to remember "No one is alone."(Into the Woods. Anyone? No? Ok good theatre inside joke I guess.)

Anyway, she sat me down and actually cared (even if she was "just" a teacher) she listened, and that makes her more than a teacher to me, because it takes a special person to sit and listen and actually care to hear what you have to say.  She was there to talk whenever I needed to.  I tried not to go to her much for fear that I was bugging her.  Although, that wasn't the point she had so much to say to me when I was nothing but silent, she knew in my head I had so much to say, but was too fearful to let it out.  She doesn't know this, and she probably never will, but since she was the fuel for my creative outlet she saved my life too... and she really saved my life because Freshman year I was so close to total self-destruction, that without her I would have never went to counseling, and I would have never cared to help myself, and I know I would have done something that would have changed my life forever. So, I owe more to her than I could ever say.

...

The rest of my day was pretty uneventful. Classes, lunch, (prison food.) I will write more tomorrow.