The day begins just like any other. I roll out of bed with barely enough time to get to class. I shower and pull my wet hair into a high bun. I don’t put on makeup because there’s no one to get ready for. I grab my backpack and hurriedly rush out the door into the brisk winter air. I rush to catch the bus and crowd on with everyone else. They’re all chatting and laughing with each other, why aren’t I? I know why. I’m ugly, fat, and stupid. Why would anyone talk to me? These thoughts echo in my mind, repeating over and over. Ugly, ugly, ugly. Fat, fat, fat. Stupid, stupid, stupid. A girl sits down next to me and starts fiddling with the headphones for her iPod. She turns to me and says with a laugh, “Don’t you just hate when your headphones get tangled?” I try to talk, but my words are forced. My voice catches in my throat and she just stares at me. I stop trying and shut my mouth. I turn away as my face turns bright red. She must think I’m a total freak, I think. I definitely am a freak.
The rest of the day continues in the same fashion, the same negative thoughts repeating over and over in my brain. They won’t leave, no matter how hard I try. I just can’t get over how there are 30,000 students on this campus, yet I still feel so alone. I’m just one of the cattle in this huge herd, slogging through the mire from class to class. There is no way that anyone would ever pay attention to me, or even see me. No one wants to be friends with an ugly, fat, stupid girl who can’t even speak. I spend the remainder of day feeling terrible, but immersed in my music. It helps.
I am done with classes and I go home for the day. I sit by myself for hours on end, and it hurts. The music helps, but it still hurts. I pray to feel better, to have the strength to make it through the day. God and music, that’s all I have.
It’s the next day and everything is the same. I can’t fake happy. I can’t force it into my skin, my heart. But I can almost reach out and grab it, it’s so tangible in the air. I can see it on the faces of those around me, in the hands of couples holding each other, in the eyes of young mothers and their babies. I want to be happy. I deserve to be happy! But the negative thoughts won’t leave. They’re a nasty smog hovering over my mind, coating all of my thoughts and experiences. And then I remember that I am unlovable, boring, and dull and that I don’t deserve to be happy at all. I don’t deserve friends. I am lower than everyone else around me. It becomes too much to fight. I stop trying because it’s too hard. It’s easier to be bitter, to stay down.
I face another day alone. I have become very numb and cold inside. I want to feel but I haven’t for so long that I have forgotten how. A boy in one of my classes turns to me and asks simply “Hey, did you get the homework?” I stare at him vacantly. I don’t have anything to say to him; all of my words are gone. He keeps talking and I turn away, ashamed. I am shy and broken. And in that moment it all hits me so hard and I cover my mouth to keep from screaming. I can’t even speak to another person. I have no connection to any other humans. I have to change, do something. I have to get help. I have to get out. No one can do it for me; I have to help myself out. I am alone for a few more hours, gathering courage, and then I go in to talk. The man in the chair is kind and nice, but I am hesitant at first. He asks me what’s wrong and all I can get out is “I need help.” He probably won’t be able to help me, I am too far gone. But then I am talking and talking and crying and spitting my soul up out into the air and he’s actually listening, why is he listening? I don’t know, but I continue. I continue to talk every week, and slowly I learn to lift my head up from the dust. I struggle, stumbling on the positivity that I try to weave into my head. I am not used to it; it’s unnatural and awkward. But I keep trying even though it’s so hard. It’s better to stay positive, to keep my head up.
I try and try and and slowly, so slowly, I learn to train my mind. The boy from my class asks me “Hey, how’s it going?” and I stutter, but I talk. I talk and try to smile. It feels fake at first, but it becomes more real each time I smile. I know now that I have had the strength in me all along; I just needed to believe.
A few months later, I am walking through campus, and the day is bright and clear. I smile as one of my favorite songs comes on my iPod. It lifts me up onto another plane, and I keep smiling because in that moment, the music is all I need. I walk into my first class with a little spring in my step and I smile again because I know that I have friends. I am warm and kind and not a single negative thought crosses my mind throughout the whole class. I still have God and music, but I have so much more as well. I have myself on my side. I am beautiful, strong, and brave and I won’t go down that far again. There are days when I am pushed down and I feel it all coming back, but I fight. I remember that the world is beautiful and I am alive. I will grow and grow until I am tall.