Gia Raquel

Photo by Kayla Edmonston

Not so recently, I have come to the conclusion that I am not satisfied by the life I live. Over the years, I have grown closer to the realization that I have to leave where I am. I have to get out of this bubble of a home.

Once, I was told that I make myself unhappy. That I give so much of myself away too quickly. I couldn’t argue against this fact, as I do make that mistake far too often. But I couldn’t understand how a young girl could encounter high school without any kind of true friendships. How would I be able to go through every day without intense laughter or spontaneous get-togethers or childish stories? It boggled my mind. I was being blamed for making friendships. I was being blamed for what every kid is encouraged to do.

I often find myself starving for affection. I make artificial friendships to fill the time in high school, hoping that they’ll help the years go by quicker. And when I have created genuine relationships, even the most perfect kind that last in my mind, they fall ill and brittle.

I admit, I think of running away. I want to get out of here just like everybody else. I know I will not look back at these four years with fondness. No, I will see them as a time of merciless lessons and foolish decisions lead by nostalgia. I know I am only halfway through my high school career, and I know it’s up to me to make this the best I can. But I have tried. Each year I have forgotten the past as an attempt to recollect my sanity and faith in the idea that everything comes together. Yet it seems as the time passes, I continue to float in a purgatorial state of questioning and brain-washing.

I can whine and scream that life isn’t fair! But I won’t. I’m tired of arguing over my right to be happy. Of asking for permission. Of displaying a political smile in front of people who deserve to be put in their places.

What I find most sad is that this is a good life. I have many privileges and wonderful people helping me get to where I have the potential to be. I feel a bit shameful for not always being thankful for that. I don’t want to sound ungrateful for the opportunities I’ve been given. I understand that there are so many others that don’t have what I’ve received. But frankly, I don’t think the privileges in my life eclipse the unhappiness I harbor because of how I’ve lived.

I have always refused to be defeated by hardships. I confess, I have come close to it, but I’m still here, I’m still alive. I’m still trying.

It’s almost a new year. I looked back at my New Year’s Resolutions from last year. I completed so much of that list. But why do I still feel the same? If I have done all I have, why does it still feel like I’m that insignificant girl sitting alone on the football field two years prior?

Everyone wants their life to matter. I am no different. I just don’t know how to get there.