Keianna

Whose idea was it to have all three high schools in my district come together to do a play anyways? I’m trying to stay calm but in all honesty, I’m bitter. OK, let me try to be fair here. They most definitely didn’t have me on their mind when they made this decision, in other words, this wasn’t a personal attack on me.

How could I let myself forget that this wasn’t a normal Saturday? I saw the fliers all over school. I knew that while I was doing Saturday School to clear an absence all the theatre hopefuls would be auditioning for the play. I should have dressed up. I should have got up early and done my makeup. I should have remembered.

Life must have been playing a sick joke on me. It’s the worst kind of coincidence that I was wearing my worst outfit while walking straight into a group of the people who, during middle school, weren’t afraid to let me know how unwanted I was. I’ve forgiven them. I promise I have, but seeing them again brought back the sick, anxious feeling in my stomach. For the most part they ignored me, but there was eye contact and acknowledgment that they remembered me.

The memories I tried so hard to repress came flooding back—science class in particular. I don’t know why that teacher tried his best to ignore the fact that they were mean to me. He saw them rip up my work. He watched them break my things and call me names.

In the moment, I wanted to go back and explain to them that, No no no, this is not me. I totally progressed and grown since the time that I knew them. I’m cool now, guys. I’ve stepped away from the situation long enough now to realize that I don’t need to prove myself to them—or to anyone. I’m in love with myself, despite my occasional bouts of self doubt.

I’ve forgiven everyone who bullied me, but there’s no way I’m going to see that play. ♦