My story

Sophmore year trainwreck?

****trigger warning at the end of this chapter***

Sophomore year, my first OFFICIAL start at this high school.
I don't exactly remember my full schedule.
I do remember my first period was geometry, my second period was dance, my third period was English, my fourth period was world civ.
I don't remember what my fifth or sixth period were, probably irrelevant classes I just blocked out because, well I've never been a fan of school.

Geometry was fun, but not because of math.
I met a boy that I liked, let's call him Isaac.
The first day I walked into that class, we both looked at each other, and coincidentally, we both were wearing black and white striped shirts.

And in that moment I knew, I definitely was gonna enjoy this class.
This boy and I hit it off extremely well.
We had same music taste, same style, same sense of humor, it was so much fun being around him.
He was a wrestler at the school, and out teacher also so happened to be the wrestling coach.
As any person would, I got his social media because, well a crush right?
We would text here and there outside of school, and well, things got intimate fast.

Texts became sexual, pictures were sent, but hey, everyone else was doing it too, so why not me too?

But I realized my attraction to this boy was only sexual, I was only a hormonal teenager and so was he.
Nothing ever progressed from that.
We remained only friends and that 'friends with benefits' relationship only lasted a couple months.

Dance was a fun class. I made a lot of friends in that class and had a lot of fun in it.
I don't have much that happened there though.
Just having fun with a class full of girls.
I do admit, to this day I do miss dancing.
But I think life has other callings for me.

Now here's where things get a bit fun.
Third period, English class.
I'll just admit it now, at first I was a TERRIBLE student.
I loved the reading, I loved the class work, I loved the teacher, but I never did the homework.
I sat with the so called 'popular' crowd, and no, not voluntarily.
Imagine this tall girl with the side of her head shaved, with the black shredded jeans, with the big boots and leather jacket and choker with the spikes, sitting with the pretty cheerleaders and athletes.
It was an interesting mix.
But they were nice to me most of the time.
Probably only because they knew that if they are nice to me, I'd help them with their work, and at times help them cheat on tests.
Oops?

I remember in second semester in my English class, there was a new face one day.
A small boy with black hair.
He was cute, and just kinda kept to himself.
He sat on the other side of the class from me, i remember I wished he sat closer to me.
I remember all the girls in class began to drool over him the second he opened his mouth.
The voice on this kid, you would've never expected him to sound like that.
Just a nice, deep, smooth voice.

It's foggy how we became aquatinted, but after that, we became friends.
Let's call him Al.
The girls I sat by openly admitted to being envious of me, for managing to get close to this boy so fast.
They always asked about him, and I always have the same response.
"Well if you wanna know him that badly, go talk to him yourself."
I also said it, knowing they wouldn't have the guts to approach him.
Maybe it was selfish of me to not give girls the opportunity to get him.
But I felt some type of way for him, definitely attraction.
But also, protective.
He was genuine, and kind. I couldn't bare to even think of him being hurt.

Little did I know how much he'd mean to me, and how far I would come when it came to having him in my life.

Fourth period was World Civ.
And this class is one I will never forget.
The teacher was young, and extremely extroverted.

At first, I couldn't stand him.
But at the time, it was also just me being this edgy teen, angry at the world, depressed, and hating to see any form of extreme joy because I secretly envied it, for I felt I was incapable of feeling actual happiness.

Our class was extremely quiet, and he hated how quiet we all were.
So due to us being basically a 'mute' class, he forced participation and talking to be apart of our grade.
I hated it.
I didn't want to socialize and he couldn't make me.

One day I absolutely snapped in his class.
He had us switching seats every 15 minutes in class, so we can sit by everyone and make friends and socialize and all that.
I hated it and hated people.
I refused to move one bit.
I sat all the way in the back of the class and refused to move at all, no matter how much he insisted.
He snapped at me, and dismissed me outside because I was being disrespectful.
I slammed my binder on the desk and stormed outside.

I stood outside and cried, I didn't want to talk to people.
I didn't know how and I was content being my usual wallflower self.

After a while, he came outside calmly and asked me to stay in during lunch, and my first thought was 'great, im gonna get detention.'

But that day changed me, and changed how I felt about him.

He asked if I was okay when the rest of the students left class.
I broke down, and cried to him.
About it all.
The depression, the self harm, the suicidal thoughts.
And he sat and listened.
He then admitted to me, that he was the same in high school. He opened up to me and we discussed mental health for what seemed like hours.

In that moment, I didn't feel alone.
And seeing this adult tell me, that he made it and that he's better now gave me so much hope.

After that day, I grew a new appreciation for him, and the class.

If it wasn't for him being there for me that day, I don't know if I would've gotten worse.
I willl always be grateful for that man.