My High School Experience

You know how everyone tells you, "oh yeah, High School will be the best 4 years of your life. You will never forget it!" Well, people were right about one thing. I will never forget those 4 years of High School.
High School is supposed to be about finding yourself, finding your best friends, having fun, going to parties, enjoying yourself, living life. Well, for me, High School was the opposite. Confused about who I was, finding out who my enemies were, having a hard time, staying at home wishing I were at parties, not enjoying myself, not living life.
The summer before I went into High School is when it all began. I had only kissed one boy at this point; my first boyfriend, Nick. Somehow, rumors began about me that summer. Things like, "I was pregnant", "I had an STD", 'I made out with 9 college guys in one night", "I was lesbian". etc. My first day of High School, I remember walking down the halls when a girl I hardly knew stopped me and asked when my baby was due. I was taken aback. Not sure what she was talking about. See, at this point I hadn't heard about any of these rumors going around. It was a hard 4 years, let me tell you. A lonely, somber, sorrowful, difficult, saddening, painful 4 years. This poem below was one of the first poems I wrote. With no friends, paper and pen became my best friend. I let out all of my feelings and emotions on paper.

My eyes avoiding others,
to conceal the dusky red.
Walking to the deserted bathroom stealthily,
so no one see me.

The pounding anxiety grows black and steadily.
Seeing my refuge at the end of the corner,
I quicken my pace.

Hearing my pumping heart in my ears,
and hearing the laughter in this indifferent world,
my walk turns into a run that seems eternal.
Beneath this shadowy lighthearted exterior,
I am feeble.

Caring no more about the world,
I burst into the abandoned bathroom.
A darkness creeps within me,
entangled in my heart,
craves to come out.

Tears stream out of my eyes endlessly,
constantly searching for God.
I wish for the misty tears to stop pouring,
but no one hears my desperate cries of help.
The tears burn the skin when they dry on my face,
stealing my strength from me.

Any yet, I continue to cry.
I look in to mirror;
the tear is the only shine left in me.