“You can do it,” he said, “You’re the strongest person I know.”
Am I really?
My whole life, I’ve been strong enough. I’ve taken everything in a stride, a smile on my face. Game on. But I didn’t always feel that way.
I’ve always had a bit of a reputation. I’m the tough girl. Nothing cracks my shell. I can take anything you throw at me, and I can just deal with it. I won’t be damaged. Will I?
There is literally a stigma associated with my name. “That’s Jaycee,” they say, “and she can whoop anything’s ass into the ground.” I’m proud of it, for the most part. But there is always this expectation around me to act stronger than I am, when all I need is to just cry and be vulnerable for a while. But I can’t. I hate myself for caring. I hate myself for crying. But I shouldn’t. It should be okay for me to care and to cry. But I feel like it isn’t.
Even with so many people believing in me, I feel so unsure of myself. I have to put on a brave mask through everything, but I’m falling apart.
And maybe that’s okay sometimes.
So why do I still hate myself so much?
I’m not an emotional person. Vulnerability has never been my strong suit (I now realize that this is an oxymoronic statement).
But lately, I’ve been feeling kind of emotional. And it’s driving me crazy.
Living most of my life as an emotionally detached person, I’ve never really learned how to deal with emotions. It’s probably my greatest weakness. I’ve never exactly dealt with anything. I just drown out my thoughts in Nirvana. I can’t cry or even really voice how I feel. I don’t know what’s wrong, or if anything’s even wrong. It’s just kinda weird.
I’ve always been the shoulder to cry on. I’ve always been able to deal with other people’s emotions. But I can’t deal with my own.
I meet Silence outside my house, right after the voice of my mother goes out of earshot. I walk with him through the neighborhood. He doesn’t say much, but I enjoy his company. A lot of people don’t, but I do. Some people mistake him for Weakness or Compliancy, and some think he’s awkward, and some even make him a villain, but he’s nothing like that. Silence is a great friend of mine, and the truest friend I have. Silence is very powerful, but only at the right time. I interrupt him a lot, but he never minds. He’s always there for me when I’m alone. Silence lets me get lost in my own thoughts and sort out my feelings without trying to offer a whole bunch of advice I never ask for. Silence really helps me think. In Silence, I find knowledge.
Silence never accompanies me when I’m in big groups or with other people, or even when I’m at home on my computer interacting with others. Interaction with more than one person at a time makes him nervous, even if that person is sitting behind their computer. I can understand that though. People always forget about Silence when they interact with other people. He doesn’t like being ignored so blatantly. Silence also disappears as soon as a sound is made. He is extremely afraid of any kind of noise.
Silence never demands any more attention than you want to give him, and you have no obligations towards him. Sometimes, I think he feels a little unappreciated, but he never lets on.
Silence is my truest friend.
I don’t get why instagram requires all your photos to be square. I mean, cameras don’t take square photos. Squares are so… square.
Sorry, instagram. If I can’t post my entire photo, I’m not posting it at all.
And I don’t do square photos.
School is something every teenager dreads. It’s a social norm. We hate our teachers, we hate our classmates, we hate all the work and the studying and the waking up early. However, I believe that there is a much bigger problem at hand than just these simple things that teenagers complain about.
The education system in the United States is subpar, if you ask me. Not enough money is going into our students, our schools, and our teachers. Teachers are sitting at their desks behind their computers drinking coffee rather than in front of the classroom teaching the students. They give packets and packets of papers for their students to complete, hand in, and forget all about as soon as they leave the classroom.
Granted, I have had some incredible teachers that did touch my life and made me love a subject I hated before. Math was enjoyable with my Algebra I and Geometry teacher. English was enjoyable with my freshman English teacher. I truly loved Algebra and English while I had those amazing teachers teaching me. Although you may think that it was just because those teachers graded easily or didn’t give much homework, it was quite the opposite. I am a straight-A student, but I got consistent Bs in Algebra I and Geometry because my teacher challenged us so much. She put a problem on the board that really forced us to apply the concepts she taught us and look at them in a whole new light. My freshman English teacher hardly ever gave As on essays. She forced us to look over every single detail and make sure every point was explained thoroughly. However, I still loved them. They forced me to think. They forced me to challenge myself. I was never bored in those classes, counting ceiling tiles and trying to hide my phone as I texted my friends across the room.
On the other hand, I had the easiest time in Biology last year. I slept through class, never studied, and did very little homework. I got straight As in that class, but I hated it. I hated every bit of it. The course was the easiest one I have ever taken, and I hated it. I didn’t even have to do anything. But I hated it. It was boring. I didn’t learn a thing in that class. My teacher didn’t care what I did. She only cared about the work. She didn’t try to challenge me. She didn’t force me to think critically.
Most people I know love easy classes. Classes where the teacher lets you do whatever you want. Classes where the teacher doesn’t assign any work and grades whatever work they do assign very, very easily. But not me.
I want teachers that do things. I want teachers that get up and make the subject fun and interesting. I want teachers that force me to think. I want teachers that remind me that I can’t get by in life by just mindlessly finishing eighty problems and then handing it in. I want teachers that let me voice my opinions. Most of all, I want teachers that encourage my intelligence and encourage me to think on higher levels.
I can’t be the only one, can I?
I am really mad right now. And when I’m mad, I’m pretty dangerous.
Most people recommend counting to ten, writing my feelings out, or going for a run.
None of that stuff works on me.
I have to punch things. Things that will hurt my hand. And preferably will break. Lucky for me, I’m a martial artist and we break boards all the time. Breaking boards has always helped me deal with my aggravation.
However, I won’t have those boards forever. I need a better way of dealing with my anger or it will catch up to me.