I remember in middle school feeling depressed throughout the days.

I remember on my worst days that if I ended it now, everything will be okay.

My friends will be happy and my parents will be okay.

I remember, on one particular bad day, I took the blade and slide it across my wrist.

Receiving the instant gratification that I was looking for, because I was in charge of my own pain.

As the tears were rushing down my face I saw the blood begin to drop.

Drop,

           drop,

and drop.

But then the  I realized that the blood wasn't’t stopping and in that moment I realized I didn't want to die.

I didn't want give up the life that I could live.

I didn't want to pass up the chances of getting married, having kids, or starting a band.

I realized that all the pain, all the stigma, and all the hurt I received was not worth losing myself.

I am the girl with green hair. I am the girl who is in her senior year. I am the girl that constantly runs her mouth. And I am the girl that won’t be stopped.

Because since that day I was left with a scar. Not just on my skin, but a scar that was left on my mind. I couldn't’t let anything or anyone to get to me. Not myself or society.

I am allowed to be a leader, without being called bossy. I am allowed to wear shorts and a tank top without being called provocative and being told that, “I am asking for it.” I am allowed to speak my mind, even if nobody is standing behind me. It is okay to stand up for myself and for what I believe in.

That I do not have to be a size 2 to feel beautiful or I shouldn't be ashamed of the gap between my teeth. That I shouldn't change myself for someone's approval whether it be my looks or my mind.

That if I don’t let the words and my own mind get to me, that everything will be okay.