To Heal a Wound

"Giving someone a chance at life" said I, "can change their outlook on it, because you just opened up a world of possibilities for them. You just told them that they can." and this was how I decided to start. I was called up here against my will, and little did these millions of people in front of me know that somewhere in the midst of this crowd, the man who had sent those death threats was watching me. I knew not to do a public speech again after the threats, but I couldn't refuse when I heard the murmurs of excitement from the crowd. I had on my favorite pale-blue t-shirt with a Van- halen logo that went well with my olive colored skin, and my jeans, so I was completely underdressed for this moment. But I supposed that if these were my last words to the public ear, then being comfortable was the way to go. "When I was a boy in middle school, things were terrible for me. Today, I'm going to share with you some of my own struggles this evening, to show my motives for fighting to get mentally ill people the help they need. Well, here goes." the crowd chuckled at that. This was a good start, I just hoped I wouldn't break down in the middle of it.

"Before the start of my fifth grade year, I was so excited because my friends and I were so ready to have our voices get deep, to get pretty girlfriends, and to become major basketball stars. But the summer before, not once had I been asked over any of their houses, and not once did they respond to any of my texts. They ghosted me, on purpose, but I did not see that at the time. I went to school on the first day so hyper that my mother could not get me to stay still to smooth my hair, no matter how much she tried. I rode the bus, discovering my old preschool friend, who at first I thought odd, but now we are close as can be to this day. At school, I knew I had a few of my classes with my friends, so I was determined to find time to talk with them. To my disappointment, for the next week, they pushed me around, ignored me, and stole the money I needed for my lunch. Another month rolled around, and I was practically their servant, but they were the only ones I knew, so who else would I turn to? I was lonely, and insecure. No one would talk to me if they didn't want something from me, and I cried almost every night. All the while I was getting severely bullied on the bus because of my acne, which was out of control even though I washed my face three times a day. This happened all throughout fifth grade. By the time it was over, I had cried a river.

"Sixth grade was even worse, my mental health had decreased intensely and I was thinking of slitting my wrists, I was also thinking of grabbing a knife and stabbing myself. I had admired one of the people who committed suicide in my neighborhood, and looked up to their bravery to be free. I was in serious need of help. My parents didn't know the extremities of what I was feeling. They didn't pay attention to the signs, the many, many signs that I was mentally ill. I started acting as if I were three again, playing pretend with my younger sister and acting as if I were a prince saving a princess, and my speech got worse too. My mom and dad knew I was getting bullied, but whenever I was around them, I acted like I handled it like a boss, like I didn't care if people used me, punched me, and picked fights with me because I was the little guy. I was way too good at hiding my feelings and never letting it out. My old friends, you ask? They were off doing exactly what they said they would, get girlfriends, get deep voices, and listen and follow god awful examples. This," I paused to take a deep breath," this was the year I forgot how to talk to people my age, I forgot how to communicate. I looked down instead of up. I looked in the mirror and cried. Any potential friend I pushed away for fear they would leave me too. I never looked anyone in the eyes again after that year.

"Seventh grade wasn't much different until the end of the year. I'll tell you, oh, I'll tell you what state I was in then. I hadn't looked anyone in the eye for over a year then, I was in constant fear of people, I was crying every night. I still acted like a three year old, or on drugs at home, and was constantly thinking of killing myself. That fall, I held a knife in my hands. I held a knife and I was home alone. I-" I could feel burning hot tears behind my eyes, but I kept them down and my voice as steady as I could muster. "I almost commited suicide that day, but do you know what saved me? The news of a new sister being born practically for me. I had been asking for another sister because I was planning this suicide for months, and I had thought my parents would put so much of their time into her, my death would be less painful when I go. But when I thought of the first kick I felt when I touched her stomach, when I thought of her first moments I would miss, despite my failing health, I stopped. And I never told anyone about that day. Half-way through the year, our seats got switched in english class, and I sat next to my preschool friend, who was the one person I had ever had a "normal conversation" with, and a very popular girl who was amazing at saxophone. She had dark curly hair that stuck out in just the right places and never had a bad thing to say about anyone, except english teachers. English was not her forte. Despite her adorable vibe, I hated her instantly from hatred knowing she had never known sadness. She had never been bullied or harassed. Everyone admired her and no one had ever talked behind her back. She could be sarcastic and funny and drove the english teacher crazy when she corrected her mistakes. This was the girl that saw me, and made me who I am today. She would constantly try and talk to me, never giving up no matter the situation. If the teacher was talking, she was also, talking to me, and trying to get me to look into her eyes. I never did. I knew if I looked, I would fall into the temptation of being able to trust someone again, a risk I knew I couldn't take. A couple of months had passed and she still hadn't taken the hint that I wanted to be left alone. This made me dislike her more. Who did she think she is? She can't just win everyone's heart over showing people with compliments. Another month passed by and there were only a few months left of the school year. She had won me. She had broken me in and made me smile I hadn't smiled since fifth grade. Later she told me she could tell I had it rough because the saddest people smile the brightest. She was the first friend I could look in the eye.

"My mental health hadn't worsened, but I was still looking at tall buildings wondering if I could stage an accidental fall. Eighth grade and on, I started keeping a journal of my mood, my happy moments in school, and my bad ones. Soon after I realized that the happy ones were catching up to the bad, and my life was looking up. The people who had bullied me on the bus had apologized and were starting to be super nice to me, like they felt guilty or something. I had gotten to know my preschool friend better and we even formed a little group of our own. For the first school year in my life, I was happy. Happy but scarred. And to this day, I had never sought help, when I should have. My life was only one, but it was a life. If I hadn't had a sister on the way, I would've committed suicide. Imagine how many people like me didn't have something save to save them? This is a major flaw in which people fail to see the beauty in the world, because other people have cast their shadows over them, blocking the good parts of the world, so that they can only see the bad. Humanity can be a disguised evil sometimes, no matter the age. " I sat there, out of breath and sad, facing my open wound with a new braveness as I took in the realization that my story was out, I hadn't just sought out help from one person, but millions of people who want to... oh god, he's within range. I rush into my last sentences, trying to get everything in I want to say, "Folks, I might not speak again for a long long time but I want you to keep trying. Not for me, not for yourselves, but for others. Think about it, if everyone is helping each other, someone will always be ready to help you. Goodnight ladies and gentleman. And thank you, one last time". Then I felt an excruciating pain in my gut, and I knew my gunner had aimed right. I fell down and the last words I remember before I felt myself loose life, were,

"We'll remember you. We'll stay strong."

And my mission was accomplished.