TBP 2015 performance only | Kim Brattain Media

Teens, teens, teens, we have problems, problems we have. Crushes, drugs, that F on the test. Teen life is easy, easy as can be.

Just stay in school and don't do drugs, it's that simple.

Hold on, wait a minute, hold on. Hold up!

Teen life isn't that simple. This teenage angst isn't just a phase. These changes have turned me and my emotions into distant strangers, and anger builds until I shatter into a million pieces.

I can't picture it all.

Being me is what I can do. I mean, can you even relate to us? How old are you?

Well, I'm 35, but I'm 15 in the soul.

Really?

15?

Because all I see is your ignorance. You believe all teens can be fixed, but I'm no circus dog, won't entertain you with tricks.

I'm showing you the path.

There's no one answer, life ain't math.

Be what society wants you to be.

I'll do my dreams, only I can understand me.

You can be you, just not with much freedom.

You don't dictate my dreams, only I can see them.

I'm here to help.

Oh really, how you figure?

Just listen to me, brothers and sisters.

We don't need to listen to one type of filter. This is my life, my canvas, my big picture.

If you ask me, teens act like they're in a TV show.

So if you're black, you're ghetto.

If you're white, you're suburban.

If you don't smile, you're mean.

And if you smile too much, you're fake.

If you like to eat, you're fat.

And if you don't, you're anorexic.

If less than half the student population doesn't know your name, you're a loser.

If you haven't had your first date by 6th grade, you're lame. If you've never been caught cheating, you're not then cool.

If you have long hair, you're emo.

you're If you wear makeup, you're bound vain.

If you're skinny, you're insecure.

If you're chubby, you're lazy.

If you have glasses, to you're nerdy. If you're be into sports, you're nerdy. If you don't like girls, you're gay.

If you're smart, you're nerdy.

#ForeverAlone.

If you're a gothic, you're a freak.

If you're popular, you're annoying.

If you're kind of cute, you're uncool.

If you're like pretty much everybody else, you're normal.

If you're not famous, you're nobody.

If you have no friends, you're lonely.

If you're tall, you're weird.

If you're short, you're little.

If you're But why are we bound by these superficial rules just to be cool or normal? I mean, adults would say, just be yourself! But we feel pressured to be the tall, beautiful figure the media's created as the ideal for us. In order to be in this show, your personality has to be summed up into one word.

You're a loner.

An Oreo.

A weirdo.

A skater.

Stuck-up.

A prep.

Jokester.

You're popular.

You're a thug.

Or a player.

Even though nobody is that cookie cutter. Don't spend your life trying to fit into a category because once you do, you've lost what made you, you. Like, you can like nice things without being a prep, and you can like dark poetry without being a weirdo. Why do we treat each other like we're in a TV show? We're not based off of those characters, they're based off of us. Yet some teens still act like they are permanently caught up in their own cheesy TV show.

You can put a label on me if you want, but just know I'm gonna tear it off because I'm way more than your best guess at what to expect. Some would call me a weirdo, but I prefer unique. Yet you're the same as me. See, the difference lies deeper than the eye can see, because visually I'm just another person, but in my soul, I'm I'm a work of art that is yet to be completed, so if you're gonna label me, best leave it blank, because whatever you write will be deleted. Say what you want, I'll remain undefeated. I know you can dish it out, but can you eat it?

You sweep across the room like a broom sweeping dust in people's eyes. Blinding them from seeing what's on the inside and blurring their vision to only see what's on the outside. And you make us think that what we see is what we get. Your finger is like a ruler pointing to the border, only one specific thing: race. Color is all you see, and you have us think that Jill is a smart little brunette that makes sure it is and only eats the most organic food. But that same little Jill loves her some fried chicken and collard greens. The way you touch our brains have us think that Latonya from down the street goes to the club every night to provide for her family, when actually Latonya graduated from college and is now working at one of the largest hospitals in town. When you walk past us, you smell like Oreos. You know, what they call people that are black on the outside, white on the inside. But I have one question: what is black? What is white? What is color? At the end of the day, my skin color does not define me, nor does my hair or the way I talk. Your smile is like a rainbow in which people only see color, but when you open your mouth, you see what's on the inside, and that's all that matters, right? So take into consideration whatever skin color you may be doesn't matter because we all have problems and issues and things we need to work on. So yeah, you may be right, Jill may make straight A's, and Latonya may have a side job to provide for her family, but don't forget— The situation, just like your face, can have 2 sides.

All right, so I looked up the definition for caramel, and here's what I came up with.

Burnt sugar.

Nah, that can't be right.

Oh, definition 2.

Ha, according to a children's dictionary.

Caramel is a light brown color.

With that being said, other than the term light-skinned—

This is the most commonly used word to describe me.

Kids will say whatever they want nowadays just to build up an image or crack a joke.

And they think that just because they let the words no offense follow whatever joke they attempted to make—

It makes it all okay.

Now, even if I laugh to prevent myself from realizing that these jokes actually hurt—

That doesn't make the joke any less painful.

And don't you realize the most stressful part about this—

Are those online surveys with all 4 ethnicities listed on the page. And the title reads, Please choose one. So what?

Do I pick the right side?

Or the left side? 'Cause in today's society, it appears to seem as if, one side is the right side, and the other side is to be left behind.

I can't fit in. I just can't.

No matter how I act, how I talk, what I eat, or what I do, I'm not completely accepted for who I am.

I'm forever to be considered as a hybrid.

I can't be black enough for the black crowd.

And I can't be white enough for the white crowd.

So I'm in between?

In the words of Michael Jackson, it don't matter if you're black or white.

That's beautiful and I love you, Michael, But you forgot about me. So I came to accept the fact that it doesn't matter if you're black and white.

I've always been thought of as different.

I've always been thought of as an outsider.

Well, I found my beautiful in-between.

And I plan to take it to my grave.

I don't care if you want to make fun of me for wanting to live in Starbucks.

Or if I want to taste the sugar in my Kool-Aid.

'Cause I'll take burnt sugar over that any day.

I should be free.

I shouldn't have to watch the shadows staring at night. I should be safe. I shouldn't have to carry weapons to prevent attack. As children, we are told boys will be boys, but when do boys turn into men? A man asks for consent, doesn't pressure. A man compliments, doesn't harass. A man respects my choices and doesn't force me to live by his.

I should be safe. Every walk to my car, every night I'm out with friends, every time my guard is down just a little, this poison—

Boys will be boys!

—seeps in.

Why am I told to cover the skin I live in when boys are encouraged to stare?

I am not my gender, not my sex. I am done being a girl. I am a woman. A woman stands up for herself, doesn't give in. A woman owns her body, doesn't feel shame. A woman makes decisions for herself, doesn't let society pressure her. I am a woman. Now grow up and become a man.

Just take those old records off the shelf.

And welcome back to Risky Business, everyone's favorite trivia trial. We have reached our final round and it's time for our video challenge.

Jenny, Mike, are you ready? Ready!

Born and raised. Spectacular! For our video challenge, we will show you both a video on this Green, make sure to pay close attention because the answer could lie in any aspect of this video. When the video is finished, we will give you 10 seconds to write down your answer, and a correct answer is worth 1,000 points. Remember, kids, this game could go either way. Ready, kids?

Ready!

Ready.

I saw you with her. Don't even try to pretend you're not cheating with her behind my back.

We were just talking, I swear.

I would never do that to you.

Don't even try to lie to me!

I know what I saw, you cheating liar!

Ooh! Oh! Where is that? I saw you with him.

Don't even pretend you're not cheating with him behind my back.

They're just talking, I swear!

I'd never do that to you!

Don't even try to lie to me. I know what I saw, you cheating liar!

And there you have it. I am of course legally obligated to state that neither actor was harmed in the production of this video. All right, for our game-winning question, get your pads ready, kids. Which one of these scenes shows an example Of an abusive relationship.

Time's up. Let's, let's see those boards.

So both of you have answered scene 2. I'm sorry, kids, but both of these scenes show pretty unhealthy relationships. Remember, kids, when it comes to teen dating violence, everybody loses.

I'm done.

Thanks.

I don't think people understand. Being abused isn't just about getting hit, it's about someone hurting you mentally or physically.

Having an abusive relationship doesn't mean that they have to hit you. You can have just as much pain just from words.

My boyfriend constantly put me down. Never laying a hand on me, of course, but he called me names, told me I was useless, always blew me off when we had plans, and it hurt. But an hour or so later, he'd call me back crying he's sorry, he loves me, he wants me to forgive him, and that's all that matters, right? No, you getting hurt is all that matters.

Things started off great with my girlfriend, but then she got controlling. Possessive. She didn't want me to go hang out with my friends, and she would even make me feel guilty for going to basketball practice. When I finally decided I wanted to break up with her, she threatened to kill herself. That's abuse.

Don't be scared about being lonely, and don't you dare worry about hurting their feelings.

You do this for you and no one else. Because in the end, all that matters is you.

Eyeball!

When you hold his hand, you're holding hands with everyone he's ever held hands with.

Kiss me.

When you hug him, you're hugging everyone he's ever hugged. When you kiss him, you're kissing everyone he's Would you have unprotected sex with him if you knew you'd be doing it with everyone he's ever had sex with?

I'm not sure.

From the producers of Proactive and True Life I'm Emo, the makers of Kidz Bop have stepped up their game to bring you Teen Bop! With sex, drugs, and all of the above because you're not a kid anymore. With hits like All of Me, Many You by Bed Legend.

'Cause I gave you all of me, now I've got a many you.

Cold Cracker by Bobby Burntard.

She pregnant, she pregnant, she pregnant, she pregnant, she pregnant, she pregnant, she pregnant, she pregnant, she pregnant, she pregnant, she pregnant.

I know she was pregnant about a week ago.

I wasn't thinking about no condom. Yeah. Guess I'm gonna end up for tomorrow's hell. Hey, you are the father. Oh my God.

My God.

STDs by Burnout Girl.

Some people don't think, they just make out when they drink. That's how you get disease, sexually transmitted disease. Just one mistake is all it would take. You will remember me because I gave you STDs. Come on, Doc.

Teen Bop, sold everywhere angsty teen products are sold.

You don't understand. He was my first boyfriend. I thought he loved me. I truly did. I thought when he texted me, good morning, babe, he truly wanted to know how my day was going. I thought the moments we spent alone, close, together, that he was only thinking of me because I couldn't get him out of my head. So when he asked, it didn't take much for me to say yes. I'm not stupid. I believed we would be together for a long time. If I didn't truly believe that, none of this would have happened. But it did. I fell for the hype. Every gesture, every kiss, every promise was a lie! And when he got what he wanted, it wasn't hard for him to let me go. And on to the next one. He told me he loved me, and I believed him.

I've been praying in the bathroom for the past 5 minutes.

Please, God, give me one line.

It was a mistake, an honest mistake. I forgot for 2 days. That little pill that promises to be a sure one-liner. Or so I hope. How can I make him grow up so fast? How can I make myself? I don't have a job. I wanted to go to college. Please, please give me one line. I'll have to quit the football team. He wanted to work on his music. Please, please give me one line. How will I tell him? How will I tell my parents? Where will we live? How will we eat?

We should have used protection.

No, no, we should have waited. Please! Please give me one line. It's been 10 minutes. I have to look down. The line.

Pheebs, you, you want a cookie?

Thank you so much.

I can barely get my thoughts together to remember, and the only thing I can hear are the sounds of my screams when, when no one else can hear them.

Yeah.

Or did they hear and decide to turn a blind eye to the situation that was happening not even 100 feet away from them? I shouldn't have trusted a guy I'd only known for 2 weeks. We're only gonna hang, he said. It'll be fun, he said. There will be a group of us, he said. Well, where was that group when he threw me onto that bed and started ripping off my clothes? Where was that group when I screamed help to the top of my lungs? Tell me that. Tell me where that group was when he When he got done and walked out like nothing happened. I'll tell you where that group was, and this is what's gonna surprise you. Right outside that room. And some ignorant people would say that it's my fault for trying to fit in with the crowd and trying to be the girl with the guy. Acting different towards my real friends just so I can be known and not just be that smart girl that sits at the front. But now look at me. I'm crying my eyes out because what was supposed to be a special moment was taken away from me by a guy I only knew for 2 weeks. But we all know what he cared about, and he got it. How will I be looked at now? Can I ever look him in the eyes again? Will my real friends be there for me and accept me back?

Relax.

That's what he kept saying. Relax, relax.

Well, how am I supposed to relax when he—

But now I realize that it is not my fault. It was not what I was wearing. It was not consensual. And when a girl says no, She means no.

Hey, teens!

Remember those childhood memories you hold near and dear to your heart? Well, prepare to have those memories crushed with this latest edition of Teen Bop. Teen Bop Disney Edition, featuring hits like Let It Go by Frigid.

Let it go, let it go. I don't have my virginity anymore. I let it go, I let it go.

Why didn't I use my head before?

Here I stand. Pregnancy just in my head.

Now the daddy's gone. Now who's gonna pay the child support?

Heart of Your World, a song about stalking by the Little Stalkers.

I don't know when, I don't know how. That I know something's starting right now. Don't run from me. I'll always be part of your world.

And who could forget classics like A Spoonful of Heroin by Molly B.

Poppin' Pills?

And every hit you'll ever take is so much worse than being baked. A spark in me, it's very hard to see that a spoonful of heroin makes your cares go away. Don't need an Ashtray, just a needle and 3 days. With a spoonful of heroin, your cares will be gone away. I can't do it any other way.

Teen Bop, ruining your childhood and mine since 2015.

This is me, this imperfect person that you see, and there's no one else I'd rather be. I want to know, what's it like to be free? If only you knew what it was like to be the old me. Day by day, running, hiding, lying. Running away from my fears, hiding all of my tears. Lies I don't I don't want to hear it. Why do you expect so much from me? Why did you build me into someone I could never be? Everyone else has flaws, so why can't I? I just want to live realistically. I'm trying to survive. I'll do my best to thrive, can't you see? I'm just trying to find the real me. No matter what you say, no matter what you do, there is no way I'll become a fake me just to please you. So the point is, These flaws that you hate to see are part of this perfectly imperfect me.

God, I hate my thighs.

My hair is a mess.

And my shoulders, I I actually look like a linebacker.

Ugh, where did that zit come from?

My face is a nightmare.

Gosh, I hate my skin color.

My boobs are too big.

My boobs are too small.

Is my butt too big?

God, I wish my butt was bigger.

I have man hands.

I feel like my ears are weird.

I hate my double chin.

I'll never have a thigh gap.

Does every teenager on the planet feel this way? I think so. All of my friends are They tell themselves they're beautiful, but when they look in the mirror, they do exactly what I do. They critique. They judge every single part of themselves, parts that other people don't even notice. And when they talk about themselves, I honestly don't see what they see. What is it about girls that we feel the constant need to bring ourselves down? I mean, I can't be the only one that can't even bring herself to accept a Do you know that you are beautiful? You are! And why do we put so much emphasis on the way we look anyways? I believe that everyone deserves to feel good about themselves. It's okay to not have a problem with your face or your butt, and it's okay to not have a thigh gap. Everyone has something that makes makes them beautiful, and it would do us all good if we tried a little harder to recognize it.

Thank you.

You ate all of it? That outfit makes you look a little thinner.

How did you finish that?

You could probably fit into my jeans.

You have a big appetite.

No, really, you don't look fat.

You see, telling me I don't look fat contradicts every other hurtful comment and phrase you've thrown my way these past few days, leaving me with even more reassurance that when a teenager sees where they place on a BMI chart, it's just a yes or no answer to will they develop an eating disorder. But the problem I have with food, with my self-esteem, is not something typically shown on a projector screen in a high school health class. No. I've been shown all these pictures of brittle bones and rib cages in bodies that stop eating while I'm sitting here stuffing my face and wishing I could stop, but it's not that simple. Be healthy. It sounds so easy. Yeah, it's easy for the teenagers who can fill their bodies with crap and are told that as long as your weight stays average, you're okay. So yeah, finding middle ground is easy for some, but if you've spent half your life trying so hard and failing to be healthy, you'd want to give up too. I can't even tell the difference between full and empty because the only thing that fills my stomach are the emotions that cause me to keep consuming. Yes, we all have emotions, but don't tell me you understand because you eat chocolate when you're sad.

It is so much more than that.

Let me be clear.

I do not have a false perception of my body. I look in the mirror and see what's really there. Parts of me that overflow and move and that I wish I could tear away. I step on the scale and see a number that corresponds with overweight. But when I was told that as a teenager I could develop an eating disorder, I wasn't warned about this one.

Thank you.

Skip dinner, wake up thinner. Do it to make them say, whoa, you got hot. A minute on your lips, forever on your hips. Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels.

I'm exhausted. That's the understatement of the year. All I can see are the calories and the fat. I never wished to be this way. I used to love myself. My jean size never mattered until, until he told me I was fat. They all told me I was fat. No, you don't understand. They didn't have to say it. Their stares said it all. That's when I started my long-term relationship between myself and the critical mirror. No one was there to tell me how beautiful I was, so I forced my hip and collarbones to be there instead. It's absolutely great that I can't sleep at night. It's fantastic that I've lost the glow from my hair and the shine from my eyes, and I absolutely love getting bruises at the slightest touch. So you say this is what you want, huh? Look at me. I may be what society calls beautiful on the outside, but on the inside, I'm ugly. Truth is, the inner voice of anorexia whispers that you'll never be happy until you lose weight, and that your self-worth is measured by how you look. But happiness and self-esteem come from loving yourself for who you truly are. Don't love yourself because I'm telling you to. Love you for you, so you don't end up here.

Patient 762, it's time for your weigh-in.

Well, that's my cue.

You are so beautiful from the top of your head to the bottom of your feet.

As long as you're at least 5'5 and look good in a bikini, then baby, that's fine with me. Hold on, stop the presses. When did my looks start to replace my personality? You want your perfect little model?

You want a tall doll?

Why would it matter if I'm 5'5 or 5'2?

If I'm a size 2 or a size 16? If I walk on the runway or if I walk in my hallway to go to bed?

Who are you to judge what beauty is?

I am beautiful, a goddess in my human form, sent to earth not to please you. My curves are voluptuous, my thinness is beautiful. I have friends that hate themselves.

Because of people like you, putting people down because of their size.

I am too thick for you to hold.

I am too thin that I might break. How about you just go back to where you came from and let me love me? Attention all people.

Fat, skinny, or anywhere in between.

Tall, short, or in the middle. Listen closely, this is important. Body image starts with yourself.

How you view yourself influences others.

You are perfect as you are.

Don't let anyone tell Don't you otherwise.

let anyone tell you otherwise.

Put a smile on your face and love your curves.

And love your thinness.

Remember one truly important thing.

This message could change your life. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but you are all beautiful as you are.

If someone puts you down, ignore them. Hashtag love yourself.

Hashtag love your body.

Hashtag no BS.

Hashtag no body shame.

Hey teens, stop stressing and start pressing the play button, that is, with Teen Bob's latest collection of new songs featuring hits like No Tech Zone by Red Runner.

Go Bob!

Free zone, free zone, free zone, free zone.

No text zone, no text zone while in the car. You ain't going far. Hey, no text zone, no text zone while in the car. You ain't going far.

You know you can't use your cell phone now when you driving on the way home unless you want to be dead gone. Don't you know it is a no text zone? Better put that phone in your pocket. Before you fly off, then crash like a rocket.

Don't get caught with I be cheating.

So I cheat, yeah, just cheating on the down low.

Hey, Mr.

Davis. Okay. Failed course by Katie Sharon.

She's a beast. I call her Mama.

Mama!

When I don't do my work, here come that drama. Drama! You better study. Study! Better get that A. A! 'Cause if you don't, you gonna repeat your grade.

Gracias.

Well, that stressed me out. How about you?

Little Einstein, we're going on a mission. Start the countdown. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.

A friend of mine gave me this. I told her I was having a good time at the party, and she looked at me and told me it would make things even better. I mean, will it really? I mean, every time I see someone getting high, they just look stupid. I mean, I've always been an okay I'm an A student, never really got into any trouble, and all of my friends tell me I should cut loose every once in a while. But I don't think I should cut loose, at least not like this. Or I mean, should I? If all of my friends are doing it, why should I be the one missing out? They say it's fun, but every time I see them getting high, every time they have this weird blank look in their face, and I can't have a conversation with them because they're too high to pay attention. If I say no to this, what's the worst that They call me a couple names, call me uptight, maybe make fun of me a little, but if that's what it takes for me not to be like them, I think I'd be okay with that. And if they're my real friends, they'd be okay with that too.

When you hear the word Grams, what do you think of? Graham crackers, Graham Norton, Instagram. All right, now what about weed? Now what do you think? Pot, dope, marijuana. I get that at least At least once in everyone's life they smoked weed. But why? For stress relief? To relax with your squad? You know, everybody says weed's good for you. You know, it's natural, can't do too much harm. My favorite one, it makes you smarter. Of course you're under the impression that weed makes you smarter because you're also under the influence. What's the worst that happens if you say no to a blunt or two? Your friends disown you, they call you a couple of names. You come back to school the next day and already 9 different people have come to you with the same comment. I'm sure you've seen that comment saying, you ain't real. Okay, so what if I'm not real? At least I'm real enough to know what's right and what's wrong. If you put down a couple grams of weed, you would be too. So the next time you're rolling with your pack and they pass you a blunt, be the smart one and pass it on.

This is the way it's been since she started smoking pot.

Broken toys, held together by glue and tape, worn with time and covered in mistakes. We're just living to die. I mean, we're all dying to live. We say we're all grown up, but we're really just kids. We yell, we scream, we fight. We're all grown up.

YOLO.

We want to change the world. Forever young. See, you might be playing Peter Pan, but Tink isn't here to make you fly. So you got yourself some pixie dust that'll take you just as high. You're slow at destroying yourself, but I guess you just don't mind. So you build yourself a persona for you to hide behind. You are rebelling, but against what? Who is the enemy? Because as far as I can tell, the only person harming you is yourself.

So kids, why are drugs bad for you?

Well, drugs are like medicine, which is nasty but makes your head go woo! Woo!

No, they make you crazy. Yeah, they make you crazy.

Like boop boop boop boop boop boop. Drugs make you crazy.

Well, drugs are bad because because they make you die.

Are you sure you guys aren't on drugs?

No.

Hey teens! Pressure to light up getting you down? Well, don't worry, Teen Bop has a new collection of Dope songs just for you, featuring hits like What a Plentiful World.

I smoke trees of weed baked in my food. I smoke it first, then I start I also speak to myself. What a blunderful world. I see Snoop Doggy Dogg, Bob Marley in sight, Matthew McConaughey. Then Betty White, and I say to myself, what a bountiful world.

Crystals by Refunk.

Newport by Alicia Keys.

Newport, give you cancer just like tobacco, can lead to depression.

I smelled Newport, I got it Let's get grungy with Teen Spirit by Nirvana.

When I inhale, fill this thing up, I'll be burning. Time is wiser! I'm so high now!

I'm so high now! I'm so high now!

I'm so high now! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!

I do not get paid enough to promote this.

I'm heroin, and I'm having the best time of my heroin life. Sure, shooting me gives you a sort of euphoria, but after a while, I turn into more than you bargained for. Using me can lead to collapsed veins, liver disease, and I can even kill patches on cells and vital organs. Sometimes your body becomes so dependent on me that when you try to stop, the results are fatal. Well, now that my time with Amy is done, now I have to find someone else's life to ruin.

It was a cool night as Allison, Jake, and I walked— barely walked— to my mom's car. We all piled in laughing. There was a reason we were laughing, but I can't remember that now. The car started and we took off. The vibe was good. I could feel it. We're going to the beach. I could feel the music vibrating through my body. I closed my eyes, we rolled down the windows, and I could feel it. The wind, the music, the world around me. I felt invincible, and in that moment, I was immortal. And then I opened my eyes, saw white lights that blinded me, and then bam! I felt the car levitate off the road. Everything was in slow motion until the airbag exploded in my face. When I came to, I could see flashing red and blue lights. Policemen were standing around and medics were lifting me up onto a gurney. Out of the corner of one eye, I could see Allison face first on the asphalt, a trail of red skin and bones behind her. She was a beautiful girl. I looked I looked around for Jake, but I couldn't find him before I blacked out. When I woke up, I was in the hospital and police had informed me that Allison was dead and that Jake would never walk again.

Allison and Jake told me that everything would be fine, that getting caught only happens to other people. If only I had just said no. I've ruined the lives of 2 of my best friends. Allison is dead. He's dead! And Jake will never walk again, while what, I get to walk away undamaged? If only I didn't go to a party knowing that there would be alcohol. I have to live the rest of my life knowing what I've done.

If only I had just said no.

Thank you.

I have a disease. This disease can make me very, very sick within a matter of seconds. It presses weight down on my shoulders and my head. It makes my muscles ache and my immune system weak. I don't eat.

I don't sleep. I miss a lot of school.

And I can't talk. Not to my friends. Not to my family. Not to anyone. I barely I can barely talk to my doctor. All he does is give me this medicine that sometimes doesn't even work. I don't have cancer or an infection. There's nothing foreign inside my body slowly killing me. Nothing can spread through my bloodstream and end my life. But you can. Very easily. All it takes is one ignorant comment and I could be gone. Succumb to my disease and die. There's no tumor that grows too large, no organ that shuts down. Instead, there's you. If you make fun of my depression and say that it's a myth, if you tell me to kill myself, that could be the tumor that grows too large or the organ that shuts down. So please, think before you say something that could cause something irreversible, because you never know who might be sick. And the disease forces us to listen.

Thank you.

Why? That's the first question anyone asks me when they find out. Why would you hurt yourself? I never know what to say. It took so much time to get over, it was so hard to stop, and they keep bringing me back to that one question: why? If I'd been able to figure out all the reasons I was hurting, I never would have cut myself. And nobody really understands. I must have been asked by countless people, but everyone I've talked to, everyone I've opened up to, has only wanted to know one thing: why? I don't know. I didn't know then, and I don't know now. And even though I've been able to stop and get help and try to talk it out, I still can't figure out why.

I'm sorry.

It was an impulse. It just happened. And after it happened once, it just kept on happening. It was like I couldn't stop my hands from doing what they were doing. And it scares me to think about how easy it was and how just for that short period of time my brain would just stop working. That's why I can't tell you why I did it, because it was like all reason was blocked out and the only thing I could think about was, I need I need this. I need this. This is all I can do right now, and I need it.

Cutting is not much different from a drug addiction, I'm told, because you know what you're doing is bad and wrong and it's hurting you. It's literally hurting you, yet you still feel this overwhelming need.

I still feel that need every now and again. It doesn't completely go away, but I've realized that I am stronger It's harder than that. So don't think why is the important question.

You have to ask yourself, what are the reasons I should stop? And even if I can't explain why, if I can help just one person because I've experienced what they're experiencing—

Because I've been where they are, then I don't think why matters anymore.

Just know that you can get help.

And it does get better.

Nobody really knows what it's like. Every family, every situation is completely different. 50% of all marriages end in divorce, and now My parents are added to that list. Why now, after 15 years? And do they have to throw this at me during the first year of high school? Every night I go to bed with questions swirling around in my head and nobody to answer them. They'll tell me, there's so much you don't know and it's so complicated. So? Try explaining it to me then! So many people in my life have stories of broken marriages, but it's so hard to find someone who can relate to the big picture of my life, my family, my story. I'm laughing it off like it's no big deal, right? The therapist I'm forced to go see would call it an unhealthy coping mechanism. I call it the only thing that keeps me from crying, yelling, and constantly thinking about it. It's become so difficult to differentiate my own emotions and feelings about the situation. I'm I'm usually the one that takes care of everyone else, but right now I don't even know how to take care of myself.

I'm Hey.

How's it going?

Look, I really don't want to waste any more time on the same old subject, so why am I out here?

We haven't spoken in almost 3 years and you just magically expect me to let you back into my life?

Why should I?

You were wrong for what you did and you know it's all coming back to you.

Let's see, uh, who's my favorite singer?

What's my favorite subject in school?

You can't tell me, can you?

I thought so.

Look, I didn't come down here to make you hurt. More than you made me hurt.

But you lost the only person who would have loved you no matter what.

Do you have any idea how weird it is to go into a barbershop and not have you there?

Do you have any idea how much it hurts to not go to a daddy-daughter dance because I don't know where you are?

I see all the other boys there with their dads, and I'm just there alone.

Did you know I got my first job this summer? No.

You know I can drive now? No.

Do you know that I'm in a relationship?

No. You don't know me at all.

You wouldn't know why!

Because you never cared to know.

No phone calls, no emails.

No nothing.

Just pain.

So you tell me what I should do.

You were supposed to teach me how to be a man and how to treat a lady. All I learned from you is what not to do.

A dad is supposed to teach his princess how to be treated like a queen, but how is she supposed to know that when the king left the castle?

All I asked was that you never leave. And you left.

So we can wrap up this conversation because you have no idea what it means to be a father.

Wake, stare.

Eat.

Repeat.

Wake, stare.

Eat.

Watch.

Stare, sleep, write.

Eat.

Watch.

Stare.

Repeat.

I am a product of my surrounding, just a page in a book bounding. Even now, expression is unidentifiable, but you can't hold me liable. I am just a product Screens illuminate my face.

It is my saving grace. I don't know how to think anymore. I don't know what I'm sitting here for. The screen knows all the answers. The screen can tell me jokes.

The screen tells me what to feel.

It is the only reason I woke.

I don't understand why you're angry.

I can't comprehend what you mean. Are we not the age of evolution? The cyborgs of society?

I have sold my soul to the almighty cloud.

Crowds of us lay flat along the hard drive.

I guess I stay up watching YouTube because I don't know day from night. My body clocks all off and my eye muscles are tight, but forget school, who needs it? I can type faster than I can write. Part of an online community, a unity, assuming we never meet face to face.

I was programmed to assert opinion and receive hate. Twitter is how I think. Snapchat is how I see. Facebook is how I realize which one I'm supposed to be. Because all cyborgs look exactly the same.

Inviting each other to play games.

I have Candy Crush. Any means of individuality? Digital is my reality.

Wake, stare, eat, repeat. Wake, stare, eat, repeat.

Wake, stare, eat, repeat. Wake, stare, eat, repeat.

Wake, stare, eat, repeat.

Wake, stare, eat, repeat.

Wake, stare, eat, repeat. Overload!

Overload shutdown emergency! Shutdown!

Please hold down power button for shutdown.

Error, error.

You cannot reset life. Last week is gone. Last month is gone. You were too busy staring at that screen, it forwarded right past you, full throttle, and traded you in for a newer model with more gigs and a smaller attention span. And my generation speaks.

With emoticons all like Rocky.

And they say, wow, we could have been somebody.

I'm sitting in this room listening to you use my mom as a punching bag. It's crazy that you're too afraid to take your emotions out on the world instead, so you choose to take them out on a loving wife who has done nothing but stick beside you through all of your crap. But the worst is when you tell me, stay in a child's place, as if I don't hear my mom going through a 12-round bout with a self-glorified dad who thinks he's a heavyweight boxer. All I can hear is her screaming, stop! Stop! And of course you're undefeated. You always win. And I just want I just to say, sit here on my knees screaming, Daddy, please! Mommy didn't deserve what she got just because she didn't satisfy Daddy's needs! I'm helpless. Is this the man I'm destined to become? No, she's helpless because how can she hold her ground if you're trying to bury her beneath it? It's so easy for people to tell her, it's time for you to leave him, but she simply can't because she's been shot down by you so many times that she gets altitude sickness. Look, she loves you, Dad. If not for her, please stop for me.

There was blood in the sink?

And bruises on my body. He told me that I was useless and stupid. And when I spoke one word against him, good old Pops dragged me up the stairs to stain the carpet. I thought Mom would understand, but she blames me too. They all do. I think she's afraid to leave him. They say if I keep it up, they'll kick me out. But if I run away, I'll be charged on terms of undiscipline. But if I was 6 or 7, I wouldn't have this problem at all. Everybody would just swoop in and save the poor innocent child being beaten for no reason. But because I am 15, I'm told to shut my mouth and be respectful.

I'm 15.

So my mouth is to blame. Not them. Not their words. Not their actions. Not their fists. But me. So either I can stay and be miserable and beaten, or I can leave and go God knows where. And sometimes, sometimes I think that it really is my fault. That maybe this wouldn't happen if I was a little different. That maybe I'm doing something wrong. That maybe I deserve it. That I should just let the bruises stay because they're the only ones who seem to know what really happened.

I'm sorry.

You're never safe when you're a part of a gang.

It doesn't matter if you're in your hood or an enemy's hood.

You can still be put down at any moment.

Whether you're defending or running from defense.

You're never guaranteed victory or safety. It's a fight-or-die situation.

And usually—

Either option ends with you 6 feet under. What did you die for? The hood? Who did you die for? Your homies? Your squad? They're not even at your funeral. They're out recruiting for someone to take your place.

Someone to go through the hell you did.

Only to end up where you are.

And the cycle starts over again.

And it never stops.

Now you feel the awkward silence of hypocrisy.

That silence you hear every time you hear someone say, man, that's gay, or that's a sin, or worst of all, It's wrong just because it's wrong.

Why do homophobia and hypocrisy go together so well? It's a perfect fit. We all think we know what we're talking about.

But do we?

Do we really? Everybody's always got something to say.

Everybody's got their own opinion.

Until it's you.

Or your best friend.

Or your brother.

Or your sister.

Uncles.

Mommies.

Daddies.

Cousins. Boyfriends and/or girlfriends.

I am me, not my sexuality.

You call us Kyla.

Andrea.

And Nick.

Not those straight So why is it okay to say, that lesbian chick, or that gay guy?

Or which one, the bi one?

We need to take a step back.

Look at the big picture.

How would you feel if it were you?

You who knew you couldn't get married in 17 states.

You who lost your job.

Your friends.

Your scholarship.

Your ability to eat at Chick-fil-A.

You would feel insulted. So the next time you say something and you think you're just joking, take a moment of silence.

When you look at me, what do you see? You must see a monster. You must see a psychotic person. Whatever you see, that's That's not who I am. You laugh at me, you tease me, you call me names. Names which will haunt me for the rest of my high school life. Why? That's the question. Why? Is it because I'm different? Because of the way I talk?

The way I move? What is it?

I am tired. Tired of being the laughingstock of the class. I am tired of saying one thing and you feel you have You have to say something to make me look stupid. And what's funny is that when you're alone, you say hi to me, and when you're with your friends, you laugh at me. But guess what? I don't need you. What you say affects me, but I'm not gonna let it affect my life. I mean, you're sure not gonna be in my life 10 years from now, so why should I care now? Because you see, what you think is weird, somebody else thinks What you think is ugly, someone else in the world thinks is the most beautiful thing. I'm not worried about your thoughts, your opinions. I'm focused on me and my goals, my life, my future. But if you have the time to talk about me behind my back, at least take the time and acknowledge me face to face. So now I ask you again, when you look at me, What do you see?

We always tend to ignore the ugly things when we see them. We just put the blinders up and act oblivious to it. Most of the time, bullying is staring us right in front of the face, but. We do nothing about it. I'm pretty normal, I guess. I don't bully people and I don't get bullied. I rarely see it happening at my school, but I think it's because I'm unaware. I have the blinders on. There was this time in my English class a few weeks ago where this girl was being so rude and offensive and ignorant to this smaller, quiet, awkward girl. The quiet girl raised her hand in response to the teacher's question, and the bully made fun of how she talked and how We all laughed at how stupid her answer was. The teacher did nothing and we just laughed. You could tell the girl was upset and embarrassed, but we just ignored it and laughed. This continued to happen for the next couple of classes, each time the quiet girl raised her hand or did pretty much anything. I soon started to think, this girl is being bullied. She doesn't like it. She's in a helpless situation. Nobody in the class is on her side. The teacher does nothing and we just laugh. I wanted to do something, but I didn't. I didn't want to be weird or laughed at. I didn't do anything. Does that make me bad? My mind tells me to just ignore it, but my gut tells me to say something. We all witness bullying, but we just ignore it and pass it on.

Ah!

Exploded. I'm pretty normal, I guess.

September 28th. Dear diary, I've noticed that every single time something good happens to me, something bad always follows right after. I mean, you think I'd be used— I'd get used to it by now, but sometimes I can't help but want to cry. Sometimes I hate my parents. They go about their lives acting as if Acting as if we're some big happy loving family. Acting as if nothing is wrong. They just don't get it. They don't get it. They don't get how they're the ones that make me miserable. They're the ones that make me hate life. They're one of the biggest reasons why I'm depressed.

I'm sorry you feel like I didn't care.

I care for you so much. I just want you to be happy.

I'm sorry if I ever made you feel unwanted or unloved.

September 30th. Dear diary, this would be hilarious if It would be nice if it wasn't so horrifyingly tragic. Every single time something good happens to me, something bad always follows right after. Is it too much just to ask for one, just for one good thing? I, I would think not, but I could be wrong.

I just wanted to say that I will always love you.

You can always talk to me if you need me.

I'm sorry we drifted apart.

November 10th. Dear diary, Sometimes I feel like there's no reason for me to live. I just wish I could cease to exist. I feel myself slipping, all the progress I've made going down the drain. But who cares? It's easier this way. I, I'd do anything to make this pain go away.

I'm sorry I ignored the signs.

I understand your pain.

You are not alone.

I'll always be there for you.

I've been where you are. You were never alone.

Dear diary, I feel alone, frustrated, lost, confused. I feel devastated, sad, angry, tired. But most of all, I feel empty. Empty, hollow, blank. I don't want to feel empty anymore. I want to enjoy life. I want help. I just— I don't know how to ask for it. I don't want them to put me in some hospital, but Maybe that's the kind of help I need.

It's okay to ask for help.

I'm sorry you felt like we hated you.

Everyone feels alone sometimes.

It would have gotten better.

January 2nd. Dear diary, I'm done, done with life. I just don't know what else to do anymore. I'm sick of everyone I know hating me. I'm tired of trying over and over only to fail every single time. I'm tired of being tired. No one would— No, no one will miss me when I'm gone. I'm just doing everyone else a favor. So goodbye. Thank you, diary, for being there for me. Thank you for being the only one I could depend on.

Thank you.

February 2nd. It's been a month since it happened, since he took himself away from us. There was so much I wanted to tell him, but I never got that chance.

I wanted to tell him I'm so proud of him and that I love him so much.

I wanted to tell him that he will always be Mommy's little boy, and I'm sorry I didn't see what was going on.

I wanted to tell I want to tell him that I'm sorry and that I never meant to hurt him.

So why did you do it?

Why did you choose to leave us?

Why did you choose a permanent solution to a temporary problem?

Didn't you know how much we loved you?

Didn't you know how much we cared?

Did you once stop to think about how we would have felt?

Or what we would do once you were gone?

I wish you had failed.

I wish you had failed.

I wish you had failed.

Why couldn't you have failed?

It's a weird feeling you get when you regret something that someone else did. It's even weirder because you regret that they did it to themselves. He mattered to me. He mattered to a lot of people, which is why we're all so confused. Confused because he always seemed so happy. Confused because he never told anyone. Confused because now we all have to refer to him in the past tense. It was just another day. When I found out, I felt a lot of things. And I cried, and I yelled, and I called him foolish, and I called him selfish, and I called him cruel. But in that moment, he wasn't any of those things. He was just gone. And I blamed everyone. I blamed myself and I blamed him. I still don't know why he did it, but everyone has their guesses. Oh, he was so talented, they say. Yeah, well, I wish he had known. He was such a cool guy, they say. Yeah, well, he hadn't thought so. He had such a big heart, they say.

Well, it wasn't big enough to keep beating once he asked it to stop. Whatever his reasoning, I wish that I could have helped him. I know that I could have helped him because he mattered to me. And now we all regret that he's gone, and he'll never know that what he did has hurt all of us.

You're absolutely hilarious. You sit in class and preach about how much you care about how wrong society is when you're the issue. Your comments aren't necessary.

Your speeches are hypocritical. So back off.

Pick on someone your own size. Pick on someone your own mentality.

Or better yet, don't pick on anyone at all.

Leave that kid alone. He doesn't need your criticism.

He doesn't need you to put him down.

And don't act like you're not guilty.

We all are. We all say we're not bullies.

But when that kid you don't like speaks or makes a mistake, you're so quick to point it out. Just stop.

Is it really that hard to hold back a comment?

We know you want to be heard.

But at least say something nice.

Say something inspiring.

Not something irrelevant.

Sarcastic.

Derogatory.

Ironic.

Unnecessary.

And overall negative.

This is high school.

Chill out.

You're never going to see these people ever again.

And you, the victim, just remember, they'll be working for you one day.

Stop!

We talking about peace. A peace of mind. A peace of mind. One nation. Get the picture?

I done been through a whole lot trying to please everyone.

It's so hard.

Hating every day that goes by.

Trying to fix everything that I do when I say hey.

Hey, what else I'm looking around me? No matter what, you can be still down there. So no matter what I do, I'm gonna stand up and say proudly, I love myself. The world's a place where everyone chooses sides. I love myself. But you can do what you want with everyone, I don't mind. I love myself. To me, you gotta get up like you swore to suicide. I love myself. One day at a time. The sun gonna shine with the rain. What's wrong with your late 80s? Look at what you do. Gonna run and make money. Keep cruising or move on like you're supposed to.

Keep crushing.

No love is breaking your heart. They trying to taste the fight in this car. He say he loves you, his only company, but he sleeps around when y'all are apart. Everybody got their own promise. Everybody got their own promise. Only you got a line or two soft. But anytime you gonna accept the worst promise, it's yourself promise. Say no more shaming.

No more shaming.

Say no more abuse.

No more abuse.

Say no more crying.

No more crying.

And no more stressing.

No more. So love yourself.

No text song. Hey, no text song. Hey, while in the car, you ain't going far. Hey, no text song. Hey, no text song. Hey, while in the car, you ain't going far.