high school

"I want her to text me. I want her to call me; I just want to know she’s thinking of me."

I’ve decided I’m done sacrificing my mental health and personal sanity for a perfect grade or academic validation.

My whole world revolved around these 30 people in my elementary school class; none deemed me worthy of a crush. I became an introvert, engaging in the less rambunctious games during recess and not talking much outside of class.

Like all 15-year-olds do, my French beau and I eventually ventured past French kissing and together explored uncharted territory. This also sucked.

Not only was my college journey stunted by the arrival of a pandemic, but I felt that I was stuck in my middle school body. My height, paired with a natural baby face and now the braces, made me feel like I was never going to get this dream college glow-up that everyone else had. 

At Millwood High, the craziest thing isn’t that there’s a killer on the loose, but that the small-town school has a budget for a ballet program.

After that first rejection, I began seeing another therapist, my time in her office and billable hours lasting longer. At this point, I was 13 and suffering from severe anxiety.

Aren’t we all just a huddled mass of copycats, anxious that the identities we’ve cobbled together will one day burst at the seams?

A little unhinged, vulnerable and heartbreaking, SZA’s record will forever perfectly encapsulate fighting my imperfectionism.

Periods of sadness, exhaustion and dissociation are inevitable for me. What has kept me going is learning how to manage the waves.