living in my head

By Cat Ho

I have always wanted to fit in. Be in a room where I felt like I belonged and I have never been able to experience that feeling before. What does it feel like? Relieving? Therapeutic? I hope to feel that someday. A place where you have no tension in your body, just glad that you have a community you can express your feelings with. Starting from elementary school, I was a new kid. And I had this amazing image that school was going to be this environment where you get to learn new topics and talk about stupid stuff with your friend, and it’ll make you laugh so hard you feel the need to hold your stomach from hurting. 

That’s what I thought school would be like. But I guess the universe had something different for me. I was a new kid in elementary school and I was so excited. Imagine a kid who just got her favorite toy as a Christmas present. You could just envision that joyful beam on her face right? Yeah, I was that kid. I came into school wanting to talk to people, make friends, people who I can connect with. I didn’t have that. No one talked to me, the only thing that I got out of being in school was being bullied horribly but I still had hope. I moved to a different school in 2nd grade and this time, I was sure that I was going to find people. I was going to find someone. Anyone.

Can you guess what happened? Yeah, nothing changed. Kids looked at me weirdly. Little remarks about me or how I act. The way I talk. Making scrunched up expressions as if I had dirt on my face. I always wondered why. Was it because of my hair? Was it the clothes I was wearing? Maybe it’s the way I look. Maybe I’m ugly. What was so wrong about me? I tried my hardest to open myself out there. To try to just be myself like everyone keeps telling me. I have been doing that. So why is nothing working? Why does nobody talk to me? I felt like I was just one small blob. Something that tries so hard to stay alive after everybody walks all over it, not noticing the damage they’re doing. It’s suffocating. Holding my breath everytime walking and constantly having to walk on eggshells, afraid of how people perceive me. 

Afterwards, I moved to Yerba Buena High School, the school that I am currently in at the moment. I moved here in the middle of 8th grade so I had to catch up on a lot but it wasn’t so bad. At this point, I tried to change everything about myself, seeing how people dressed and the way they looked, I felt the need to be like them. Maybe then, things will get better. Right?

It sounds naive when I say it out loud. But being uncomfortable in your own skin because you feel like you’re different from everybody else… it’s a gasp for air. Every single time. You’re holding your hands out, reaching for someone to pull you to shore. Hoping and wishing that they will grab you, drag you to land where you can finally breathe, and tell you, “it’s alright. I’m here.” 

“How long will it take for me to get rid of this loneliness?” I ask myself. A feeling of emptiness because you’ve used up every single ounce of breath in your fragile body to mend yourself the way you think people want you to be like. It’s tiring, but for some reason you can’t stop it. You just can’t, no matter how hard you try. Why? It’s because you’re so caught up in their heads. Don’t exchange your soul for others just to please them. It is never worth it, no matter how satisfying it sounds. It’s just going to suck the life out of you in the end. 

Even now, I am still an outsider. I still try to buy pieces of clothing that I thought looked cute on someone, then wearing it the next day just to have nobody notice. I don’t get invited anywhere. In an overwhelming crowd of people, I stand in the corner, fidgeting with my clothes and drowning myself in lyrics that echo in my ears. Nobody waits for me when it comes to walking together. I look down on the concrete, counting how many steps I’m taking, trying to distract myself from the fact that I am alone. It doesn’t matter what I do. No one is going to grab my hand this time. I’m going to have to swim to the shore. And when I get there, I’ll take deep harsh breaths, maybe cough here and there. Opening my eyes, red and filled with stinging pain from trying to see my way back up to land. I’m alive. I’m still here! I take a look at my hands, trembling and place them to my heart. It’s beating. And I smile.