Adults never will understand my generation. We’re weird, brainwashed, and disrespectful.
As much as my parents say they’ll support me no matter what I know they won’t.
When I came out bisexual, they told me that I was too young to know for sure.
Every day, they ask my brother if he is gay because he wants to have long hair.
For continuation, all girls have to wear a dress. Even the girls who haven’t had one since the first grade.
These little things happen all the time.
Today was the school dance. Today was relaxed until it wasn’t. Instead of being allowed to escape the chaos, I had to sit there.
Logan had a panic attack. Hers made her cry and hyperventilate. I also had a panic attack. Mine didn’t make me cry. Mine was silent. Because of this, I had to take care of Logan.
While doing this he silently cursed myself for sticking to something I was so used to. After all, my panic attacks were just me overreacting to something so stupid.
Boys in my grade make fun of 9/11. My birthday. Every year on my birthday I woke up to my mom crying. At this point, I was used to it, and would comfort her till she was better. I used to think it was normal, something everyone did, but I quickly realized that my brother wouldn’t have to do it. You see, my mom was in New York, she was on a subway almost below the towers. Her brother struggled with the thought that he was the reason someone died. He committed suicide.
Because of this, I’m surrounded by death. And everyone wonders why I have dark thoughts.
165Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjUJGov000m
“I love your outfit,” Carly told me as I plopped down on one of the weak plastic chairs that the school owns for the desks.
“Thanks, I’m wearing all black to spite Andrea and her stupid neon dance,” I say.
“Nice.” She says.
“Oh, I completely forgot about Neon Day today.” Alicia, a theater teacher along with Carly, shouted across the room.
“But isn’t it also 80’s day? Your outfit is definitely giving 80’s.” Carly said.
“Thank you.” I look down at my outfit. My jeans are black and baggy, and my shirt is skinny and made out of mesh with a few pink flowers on it.
In theater I was happy. Or normally I was. It was days like this in theater class where they put the worst kids like Micky.
In that case, I hated theater.
On this day it wasn’t that bad. We had to write a script, or at least Allessa and Logan had to. We were thinking of doing a Brothers Grimm and Into The Woods vibe.
When the bell rings, we go up to the lunch room, get lunch, and quickly run back to the theater class.
"I'm happy!" I exclaim.
"For what?" Logan asks, her robotic voice almost questioning.
"We're singing Meet The Plastics, for the cabaret. I'm just really happy I'm in it at all." I tell them.
I was really happy. I had recently dropped out of the school musical due to a bad grade. That bad grade was from a group project with Allessa and Logan, so I was bitter about that. But they are too egotistical to see that.
"Can we have the people singing Ex Wives come and sing it?" Alicia asked.
Allessa, Logan, and four others scamper to the center of the room.
"I don't know my part," Ryan, a 6th grader says, and the rest agree. Alicia strides to the board and pulls up a karaoke version.
After an almost stunning performance, Alicia asks them to sit down. I watch, almost sadly from my desk. I really wanted to be in Ex-Wives, but there was no room.
"I'm worried that we won't memorize our lines in time." Alicia is saying when I come out of my sad trance. "I think we're going to have to cut Meet the Plastics or Ex-Wives."
Throughout the group, everyone says, "Cut, Meet the Plastics." All I hear is, "Cut Paige out!"
"Okay, well then we should add Paige in," Alicia says. "Is someone fine with sharing a role with her?"
No one, I say in my head. I don't want to take a pity role. Pitty comes from people who don't think you're enough.165Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTgMq1WzEeR
"I can," Brielle says.
"I don't need to be in it," I say. It sounds bitter, but that's because I am.
"Yes, Brielle, how about next class you work on splitting your lines?" Alicia adds in. I want to tell her I'm fine, but I feel like if I do I'll cry, and that will make me look like a fool.
"Great," I say. I grab my things and plan on going to the library and talking with Kassandra. "You can take my role," Logan says, but I ignore her. No one follows when I leave the room, and I say a silent thank you.
I turn a corner where no one will see me and sob. I count to five, then shut the sadness down and rub my eyes.
When I make it to the library, I get an Email from Logan asking me to take the role. All I tell her is 'No, you should keep it. You are doing really well.'
I don't want to face her, or Allessa, or Alicia because all they'll do I try to sympathise me but it makes it so much worse.
ns 15.158.61.40da2
