i regret being alive

at seven every morning

on the dot, without a doubt,

when i know 

i'm going to be 

late for class,

with my english teacher,

who thinks i'm good for nothing;

and my mother

will get called to school,

if it happens 

one more time,

and i'm not tired.

i simply want

to tear my hair out,

and 

scream,

endlessly.

i regret being alive

when i wake

with a splitting headache,

the million alarms 

still ringing 

in my head,

all of which i turned off

so i could sleep 

through them

without doing 

my homework.

and i don't want to cry.

i just want to live in hawaii,

beside the beach,

like a hippie.

another day

of not raising my hand in class,

because i'm shy;

another day 

of my grades

getting lower.

i feed the fish

we keep alive

to experiment on.

i see a friend

and we're laughing

in the library.

i water the plants

in our garden

for agriculture class.

sure, i'm tired,

but i'm kind of 

happy.

it may not look like it, but i am trying very hard.

you think i’m bad because i’m late to class even though

you don’t know why. look at my essays like you know

what grade they’re going to get, when you haven’t even

read them yet. you think because my quiz scores aren’t

perfect that i don’t understand.

but people have different capabilities;

maybe i’m not where i’m supposed to be,

and i need you to stop judging me for that.

all people ever see is how it looks like;

you’re never going to understand if you don’t try.

i haven’t slept right since school started, trying to solve

math problems which don’t seem to make sense. i read

the textbook before i was asked; did every single thing i

was supposed to. it’s crazy. it meant waking up at dawn

after sleeping at two in the morning.

you don’t know how it feels when your best is never

enough, and you have no idea how hard it is to keep

doing that, to keep trying anyway.

you don’t know how often we break.

i have learned to count myself strong, not because i win my 

battles, but just because i face them.

we learn to compromise, sacrifice. i don’t have poems

in my head anymore (it’s a mess in there), and i don’t

have the energy to play sports. i don’t see my friends

except in the corridors, all in a rush to get somewhere.

we get no credit, and all the shame. our stories don’t

get told; they’re not the ones where people clap at the

end. we are neglected, felt sorry for, or hated. we are

spectacular at failing to amaze.

we have learned to cheer for ourselves because no one

else will. learned to act like it’s not a problem, that

coffee is your best friend, and you spend nights

studying, just to get lower scores than the rest of them.

tell yourself you’re not tired even when the minute you

start to rest you feel like you’re collapsing. always feel

like crying but you stop yourself; who cares if you’re

exhausted? you still have to finish those papers; you still

have to answer those tests.

what does any of it mean? why am i graded with a C or

a D? are they telling me i will not lead a good life, that i

am doomed already? my story has not started and no, my

fate will not be decided like this. you cannot pass

judgments on my character based on numbers on a paper.

i am more than all these requirements that never end. i

am the work i put into them. so instead of looking down on 

me, let us carry ourselves with some dignity. after all, it’s not 

a game; it’s not a race. we’re all stuck in the same place. and 

the world is tough for everyone, regardless of our “grades.”