I’m only 16.

Yet I have been through so much. 

I have been bullied, ridiculed, and laughed at. 

I have moved from a little town where everybody knew everything about you to a big city where people don’t care who you are.

I have moved schools. 

I have become the “new girl”. 

I was the new girl in a middle school where the kids were divided: preppy and pretty, jocks, nerds, and loners. 

I’m only 16.

Yet I’ve struggled with mental health.

Anxiety grabs ahold of me and tries to drag me down into the dark endless void called depression. 

I’m only 16.

Yet anxiety is written on every wall. Every pencil. Every sticky note. Every timed writing. Every bright blue “submit assignment” button. 

Anxiety puts a wall between me and having fun. 

Anxiety is the reason I find comfort in characters in books and movies because I know they are fictional. 

It is the reason my life is color-coded and labeled.

It is the reason why I am stressed. 

I’m only 16. 

Yet it feels like time is slipping away. 

It feels like the world is taking away the people I have found comfort in. 

It feels like I am walking on a highline thousands of feet in the air over a pit of bright blue fire with no safety net to catch me. 

I’m only 16. 

Yet I found comfort in writing. 

The way that writing allows me to tell my story the way I want it to be told. 

The way that writing allows me to have other people feel my emotions and think my thoughts. 

The way that writing allows other people to understand me. 

I’m only 16. 

Yet I have changed and I have grown throughout the years. 

I’ve cut and dyed my hair to fit in with my peers, but I have also cut and dyed my hair to express myself. 

I’ve changed my style. Not just my clothes but the way I talk, walk, and write. 

I’ve changed all of myself to make other people happy.  

I’m only 16. 

Yet I have fought wars. 

Some are on the forefront of the war taking it head-on, some are on the sidelines watching the casualties fall like leaves off trees when autumn hits, and sometimes I am the casualty. 

Some are messier than others. 

Some of them have compromised, some have retreated, and some have won. 

I’m only 16. 

I find peace in the busy town where the streets always have cars, and the city is never quiet. 

I find peace in the divided groups at school. 

I find peace in tackling my anxiety. 

I find peace in writing, it built the safety net under my Highline. 

I find peace in myself and my style. 

I find peace in the aftermath of the wars. 

I’m only 16.