The Big Picture Charlotte, NC 2019
The video is a staged, multi‑character performance that strings together monologues, dialogues, parody PSA‑style segments and satirical songs to present a panoramic view of contemporary teenage life. Through alternating voices (Speaker A, Speaker B, “Beauty Guru”, “Millie Ways”, etc.) the piece tackles a wide spectrum of topics: identity and labeling, racial inequities and violence, bullying, body‑image and fat‑shaming, academic pressure, mental‑health struggles (depression, anxiety, self‑harm, suicidal thoughts), substance use (vaping, smoking, edibles), sexual health (STIs, pregnancy, consent, abusive relationships), eating disorders, family abuse, LGBTQ+ identity, and the pervasive influence of social media. The narrative oscillates between raw confessional testimony, ironic commercial‑style “unboxing” of insecurities, and mock‑pop songs that both parody and amplify teen culture. The overarching purpose is to force the audience to confront uncomfortable statistics and lived experiences, urging empathy, self‑respect, and collective responsibility while critiquing superficial media messages and societal expectations.
Chapters
We couldn't stop the facts from being facts. The truth. The only thing no one has a choice in is the truth. We could have sugarcoated it, it wouldn't sound as harsh. Poured some Clorox on it, it wouldn't look as dark. Suppress a whole generation and act surprised when they want to talk. Try and hide the harsh truths from a whole generation. Well, viewer discretion is advised, but there is no parental lock on problems. No matter your age, it's hard to avoid them. Especially when you see the problems in yourself. Can you relate? No matter relation, because nothing starts affecting you personally until it happens to your people, right? Someone who looks like you, your color, your age. Change what-ifs into reality. What it is is your voice. This is our voice. We bring you the statistics, the big picture, the things that were already sitting in your living room bust in your door without invitation. Your daughter, your son, We invite you to listen. Shh! Everybody listen. The statistics are talking. Is it just me, or do some kids walk around like they're in some dumb TV show? This isn't the early 2000s, and we're not in middle school anymore.
Just because I'm not up to date with the latest fashion trends or own AirPods doesn't mean I'm poor.
Just because I haven't had my first boyfriend by the time I'm 14 doesn't mean I'm lame. If I choose to sit alone at lunch, it doesn't make me an outcast or mean I have no friends. And just because I have below a 3.0 GPA doesn't make me stupid. My grades shouldn't define me. None of these things define us. I shouldn't be judged based on my appearance, my social status, who I'm dating, or my sexuality. Some people feel the need to put others in a box and label them like they're in a movie. Like you can sum up a personality trait in one or two words.
A loner. Fake. Talentless. Insecure.
The fat one. These words do not sum up who we are. And no one has the right to decide who you are except you. We should be able to feel comfortable in our own skin without being judged or ridiculed by others for being ourselves. This isn't Riverdale, and you sure aren't stuck in Mean Girls the movie. Some kids walk around like they're in some dumb TV show.
The 3 leading causes of death for CMS teenagers are accidents, suicide, If you are a black male teen, that order's reversed. Race is a sensitive topic. I swear I see it every day on TV, news, man, I even see it in my own streets. Another dead black teen. People try to say all lives matter, but that doesn't change the fact that life for a minority differs greatly. The fact that Joey is more likely to get a higher-paying job than me. The fact that I'm statistically more prison than college bound. I'm more likely to be convicted for a felony and more likely to live in poverty. The fact that we, the minority, are keeping the prison rate at 60% capacity. The fact that you and me are living very different realities. The fact that I'm an endangered species of black teen to live to see 18.
I'm endangered!
I feel no safety, none at all, because if I'm killed, it'll likely be by somebody that looks like me. But then I'd just be another statistic. I'm on a death toll, but I'm not a statistic. I'm different. I'm an anomaly because I change the world around me. I'm timeless because I know I am quickly running out of time. Yes, I'm screaming, not because I'm mad, but so you can hear me, so you can understand me. But don't misunderstand me. Yes, we have come a long way. We are still too far behind to be called on even footing. I just hope this poem can bring us out Eye to eye, evenly.
I should be free. I shouldn't have to watch your shadows disturb night. I should be safe. I shouldn't have to carry weapons to prevent attacks. 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 decisions, doesn't force me to live by his. 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 aren't encouraged to stop? I'm not my gender, not my sex. I'm 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 and doesn't let society pressure her. I am a woman. Now grow up and become a man. He called me a skank. I should have known.
She told me I wasn't good enough. I should have gotten out faster.
The times he did love me seemed to make up for all the times he treated me like he didn't.
When she was happy with me, I was so happy. It was like I was afraid to lose that happiness when she was gone, but I was forgetting that she was the one taking it away from me in the first place.
He made everything seem like my fault. If another guy looked at me, it was my fault for wearing the dress. I couldn't even have guy friends without him freaking out. It was crazy and controlling, but we'd been together since freshman year, and I was having a hard time seeing myself in a world he wasn't in.
She accused me of cheating on her almost every day. I felt suffocated, but her hand fit so well in mine for so long, it was— it's hard for me to let go. All that matters is that she still loves me, right? Wrong.
Love is not jealousy or slut-shaming or making you feel ashamed for feeling beautiful in front of other people besides him. I know that now.
Love is not guilting me into thinking I'm not good enough just because she's insecure with who she is. I know that now. I wish I'd known before.
It's hard to get out of that dark place, especially when the person you're escaping has become so familiar.
But trust me, once I tell you it's over, things get better, and you'll find someone who treats you the way you deserve to be treated.
Just know that it's not your fault, and you deserve to be loved the right way. Hi guys, it's Beauty Guru Number 5, and today I'll be doing another unboxing video for you guys. So I got this from the drugstore near the pharmacy section. It's super cheap. Super effective! It is a condom! Yep, this thing right here is a 2-in-1. Not only does it protect against pregnancies, but it protects against STIs. Chlamydia, AIDS, herpes, gonorrhea, syphilis, all of the above! This material is super rubbery and even comes with a built-in lubricant in some brands. 10 out of 10, would recommend for any time you have sexual intercourse. All right, guys, thank you so much for watching this video. Make sure you smash that subscribe button. And guys, remember, wrap it before you tap it. Who is Mommy Duck looking for? Mommy Duck is looking for Baby to stop crying. I should be picking out prom dresses, but instead I'm reading about who likes to ride in the little boat.
Teenage pregnancy?
Looks like it.
Don't worry, we cover that too.
We are talking. I'm not gonna say it. From the producers of Proactiv and True Life, I'm Emo, and the makers of Kidz Bop have stepped up their game this year to bring you Teen Bop, with sex, drugs, and all of the above, because you're not a kid anymore. Here's a new sex and relationship edition. That's what I call Teen Bop '69, featuring hits like STD 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 will take. You will remember me because I gave you STD. Ooh, you nasty. I knew she was burning. Or this hit, I'm Pregnant by Nick. Don't ask me to be the father. I sit down on the toilet and I pee on a stick. I look down, I'm surprised it's got 2 lines on it. It's not my fault, we were drinking, we were trying to get lit. It's not my fault, I couldn't I couldn't help it, and now I'm pregnant. I didn't take no birth control, and he didn't use the condom. That's why I still got pregnant. Somebody call Marvin. That's okay, we'll figure this out. But Chris, you are the father. Where's her child support?
Baby is white.
This next hit will have you scheduling your next doctor's appointment. Throw some cream on that itch by Itch Boy. Yo, yo, hey, dirty boys crashing it.
Should have wrapped it up for sex.
Running to the clinic.
Just got an STD.
Throw some cream on that itch.
Just got an STD.
Throw some cream on that itch.
Just got an STD. Wait, whoa. Zuri.
Zuri. Zuri. You can get STDs. I knew she was burning. I knew it. Or this hit, Please Use a Condom by Demi Lovato. Uh-oh. HIV is some badish, and baby, it's not badish. You really need to wrap it. Please wrap it. Please wrap it up. It would be dumb of me to just do it without one. But no. Please use a condom. Or a dental dam. Please use a condom. Or a dental dam. Don't wanna get oral STDs. Keep all that trouble away from me. Please use a condom. Or a dental dam. Please use a condom. Or a dental dam. Don't wanna get oral STDs. Keep all that trouble away from me. And newest to the album, Abstinence by Camilla Kept It in Her Pants. I told him when I met him, I don't know why he bugging. He got me looking like— and then I had to tell him, you gotta go. Oh na na na na na, abstinence, ooh na na. My teenage life is about abstinence, ooh na na. Can't give away my cookie, oh no, na na. My teenage life is about abstinence. It's all about abstinence, abstinence, ooh na na. Teen Bops. Sold everywhere angsty teen products are sold. I've been waiting. And praying, pacing back and forth. It was a mistake, an honest mistake. I forgot for 2 days that little pill that I thought would promise an assured bond line. So now I pray. What if he tries to deny it's his baby? Is he gonna leave me? I'm not ready to be a mother or get married. I don't even have a job, and I want him to go to college, and he'll have to get a job and quit the football team. Please, one line. Where will we eat? How will we survive? Please, please, one line. How can I tell him? How can I tell my parents? They're gonna be so disappointed. We should have just waited, and we should have used protection. God, please give me one line. It's been 10 minutes. I have to look down now.
2 lines. Guys! Yo! Girls! Hey!
Are you tired of your hormones getting the best of you?
Yes!
Scared you might have to deal with that unwanted pregnancy? Or maybe you're trying to find your way around an STI?
Yes!
Well, I've got a fabulous new product for you. It's a little thing I like to call Abstinence.
What's that?
Reviews say it's very effective at preventing STIs and unwanted pregnancies. But between me and you, we both know it's 100% effective. Oh, and I almost forgot to mention, it's free. Oh my God, yeah, I know, right? Almost too good to be true. But I'll tell you that this is 100% effective at preventing STIs and unwanted pregnancies, and it's all yours for the hefty price of zero. Free is for me. Side effects may include not having to worry about having an STI or unwanted pregnancy. in having a better, healthy relationship with your partner. Abstinence. Get you some! I could barely get my thoughts together after what happened that night. All I could hear were the sounds of my screams, wondering when no one else could hear them. We were supposed to hang out. It wasn't supposed to end up like that. He said there would be a group of people. There were only 2 of us, him and me. I knew him. No, no, no, I trusted him, and look where that ended up. Crying my eyes out because he took something that I can never get back. Relax, he said. Relax. That's what he kept saying. Well, how can I relax when you're for for a long time, I was afraid to speak up. I heard all these stories about how they blamed the victim, but when a house is broken into, you don't blame the welcome mat for being too inviting. So why would it matter? What I wore, because what he did was unforgivable. Eventually, I spoke up. If I could just prevent one other person from going through what I did, I guess it was worth it. But for a long time, I blamed myself because they don't always teach you that it's not some man lurking in an alley or creep you meet online. It can be someone you know. And guys can be victims too. But I've come to realize that it wasn't my fault, and it wasn't what I was wearing, and when a person says no, they mean no.
No.
You are so beautiful. From the top of your head. To the bottom of your feet. As long as you're at least 5'9. And look good in a bikini. Then a 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 your tall doll? Why would it matter if I'm 5'9 or 5'3? If I'm a size 2 or a size 16? If I walk on the runway or if I walk in my school hallway? 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, no matter how many I have. I have friends that hate themselves because of people like you putting people down because of their size. You want us to be fit? As long as it's It's not in the stomach. How about you 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 affects the attitudes of others around you. You are perfect as you are. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. Put a smile on your face and love your curves. Love your body. It's the most precious gift you'll ever receive. 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.
Love yourself.
Love your body. Hashtag no BS. Hashtag no body shame. Because judging people by their size, whatever that size may be, is BS. I just think it's funny how this society preaches love and acceptance but then fails to see through. I mean, I'm fat. I know that because my doctors say I am, my family says I am, and even my friends say I am. That's okay though, because Because there's nothing wrong with that. And it's taken a while, but I can now look in the mirror and see nothing but blinding love for my body. But y'all don't seem to understand that. And when I say that, I mean the fact that you guys talk about love and fat acceptance, but as soon as a fat girl does something wrong, you don't go for her throat. No, you go for her weight. And that hurts, you know, because it shows that at the end of the day, no matter what you tell other people or retweet, you still see being fat as something Shameful, something disgraceful, something ugly. And the same goes for everything else people are already trying so hard to accept about themselves. You're hypocrisy in its purest form and a walking contradiction when you do stuff like that, because at the end of the day, you've got to understand, you can't just preach acceptance, you have to believe acceptance. Hi guys, it's Millie Ways here with the fabulous product that every budding teen needs— self-respect. How does it work? Glad you asked. Just use an ounce of self-respect whenever you start to do anything that lowers your worth or makes you feel sad. Stalking that ex on Instagram to see if his new girl is She's so much prettier than me. Try some self-respect. Shh. Thanks, Millie. Constantly putting yourself down, wishing you were like Sissy or Becky or some other girl. I wish I looked like Sissy or Becky or some other girl. Try some self-respect. Shh. Thanks, Millie. Those other girls got nothing on me. Think it's cute to post pics of yourself and caption them? Uh, I'm so ugly. Taking down in a few. Try some self-respect. Shh! And why are you posting if you're gonna take it down? I don't know.
Shh!
Thanks, Billy. Worried because you lost twenty followers on Instagram today? Oh my god! I lost twenty followers on. Instagram today, bathing in a tub full of self-respect. And why are you worried about followers? Are you a cult? No. So stop that ish. Thanks, Millie. And think it's cute to call yourself trash? Oh my God, I'm literal trash. Your shrink self-respect! Oh, wow, thanks, Millie. I'm no longer trash, I'm recycling. Self-respect is easy to order. Just call 1-800-I-AM-GREAT. Self-respect, get yours for free 99, 'cause after all, you are priceless. Skip dinner, wake up thinner. Do it to make them say, whoa, you got hot.
No pain, no gain. Nothing tastes as good as when it feels.
I am exhausted. That's the understatement of the year. All I can see are the calories, the fat, and I never wished to be this way. I used to love myself and my jean size never mattered until he told me I was fat. They all told me I was fat. Well, they didn't have to. 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. I love having to starve myself one week and then eating everything in sight the next just so I can make weight for the next match. I don't even know what a normal portion of food looks like anymore. My brain Only cares about one thing: make weight, don't let coach down, keep running, sweat it out in the sauna, no pain, no gain. What? Do I not look like your average image of an eating disorder patient? Because we come in all shapes, races, and yes, guys get eating disorders as well.
The truth is, the inner voice of anorexia whispers that you'll never be happy until you lose weight, and that your 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. You need to live for those who love you, need you, and look up to you. You need to love you for you so you don't end up here.
Patient 762, it is time for your weigh-in.
Patient 763, it's time for your weigh-in.
Hi guys! Basic Beauty Guru number 6 here, back with another unboxing video. So today I'm gonna be unboxing my deepest insecurities!
Yay!
So first up, we have my crippling fear of abandonment. Um, now I actually wouldn't recommend this product as it does tend to come with like bouts of anxiety and like crying fits. So yeah, I'm just gonna put that away for now. The next product I'll be unboxing is my belly fat. Hahaha. Um, now even though I hate this product, reviews it got from my My friends and family say that it's actually really cute and natural, so I don't know what's up with that. Um, I do have one more very special product for you guys today. It is in the back though, so I'm just gonna have to go run and get it. It's right back here, one second. Oh, it is this pimple on my forehead! Hahaha! Um, I actually wouldn't really recommend this product as it is causing like issues for me because like I have a date tonight, and so like, hahaha, I don't know what's up with that. Um, now apparently a really good way to get rid of the fact that I hate these products so much is something called a therapist. Now, I don't know much about this product, but comment below if you want me to review it in the next video!
Thank you!
You okay, man? I'm killing it, man. I don't think you know what that means.
There you go, man.
Drink this.
Better? Better. A friend of mine gave me this. I told him I was having a good time at the party, and she handed me this, and she said it would make things even better. Will it really? I mean, every time I see someone smoking, they look...
Stupid.
I've always been an okay student, never really got into any trouble. My friends say I should cut loose every once in a while, but I don't think I should cut loose like this. Or should I? I mean, if my friends are doing it, why should I be the one missing out? I mean, they say it's fun, but every time I see them smoking, every time they have this weird blank look on their face, and I can't have a conversation with them because they're just It's too high to pay attention. If I say no to this, what's the worst that can happen? They call me names, call me uptight, pick on me a little? Well, if that's okay, then I'll be alright with that. And if they're really my friends, I guess they'll be okay with it too.
Hi. Hey teens, pressure to light up getting you down? Well, don't worry, Teen Pop's new collection of dope new songs featuring Hits like I Don't Smoke With You by Sig Shine. Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey! Ho, ho, look, listen, listen, listen. What? I don't smoke with you. Hey, you're looking dumb, no less. I ain't smoking with you. Listen, listen. What? Black lips don't funk. I ain't smoking with you. Hey, I got a job and some friends and some other things to do.
Hey!
Then that beats fuckin' with you. You like a stupid song? I don't hit the blunt. I don't hit the blunt. I don't, I don't, I don't hit the blunt. Look, I don't hit the blunt. This next hit will have you tweeting the president. These drugs keep getting stronger by Kanye Weeds. Burnin' baby, keep poppin' ice. Reefer and pot, weed don't green out me. None of that meth, this is gonna kill me. I can't see myself stoppin'. I gotta kick this habit or else I will be droppin'. I know I got to get clean now 'cause I can't get much stronger. I only got one night left now. These drugs could keep gettin' stronger. Hey! Hey! Hey! Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Oh, oh.
Oh, okay.
Wanna get the party really popping? Well, pop in this next hit, My Last Friday Night by Katy Perry. This Friday night, don't mind but sing. No, this Friday night, this dish ain't your friend.
Well, you owe me $20.
Well, you're gonna be waiting on that because I don't have it. A bop like that could only be followed by a classic. This is an edible by Black and Mildish Gambino. We just wanna party. We think drugs are cool. But we don't like smoking. What is that I do? Oh, get some THC. Put it in some food. Start acting like a fool. Oh, this is an edible.
Don't catch me slipping now.
You gonna start tripping out, then you gonna start flipping out. This is an edible, shouldn't be eaten now. You gonna start geeking out, then you gonna start freaking out. Don't eat the edible. You think it's fun and then, and then you stop functioning. Bit scary, doesn't it? Yeah, this is an edible. It's gonna get high as Caesar if you're not careful.
Ay!
Brings on anxiety. Yeah, yeah, you think it's funny when— yeah, yeah, you start to eat the stuff. Yeah, yeah, then it's not working, then— then you gonna eat too much. Hey, Brownie, he's like, yep. Got you feeling scared 'cause bad trips got you there. Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh. You gonna tell somebody. You gonna tell somebody. Eat that brownie. Eat that brownie. Weed is white man's. Eat that brownie. Weed is white man's. Eat that brownie. Weed is white man's. Eat that brownie. Weird-ass black man. Dang, she don't eat the brownie. She ate the brownie. What would a compilation album be without Marlboro Red by Black and Mildish Gambino? I don't want to smell it when you inhale it. My doctor answer now. My lungs have cancer now. My breath's addicted. No, I'm addicted. I hate smoke. Hate smoke. With the patch. With the patch. Arms are strapped. Arms are strapped with nicotine patches. Got me dripping. Ooh, I hate smoke. Oh, with a passion. Cigarettes are trash. Yeah, yeah. Stop smoking, AJ, with them black lungs. Do you have a cigarette? Uh, uh, no.
Do you have a Juul?
A, a Juul?
A Juul.
That's literally nicotine, fog juice, and antifreeze. And it freeze like in my car. Yes, sir. And you look like you're sucking on a USB port, if I do say so myself. You know what's wrong with you? Fool! Team Bop, get it before it's sold out. 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 why we were laughing, but I can't remember that now. I can't remember why we were laughing either. The car started and we took off. The vibe was good. I could feel the music vibrating through my body. I rolled the windows down and I closed my eyes and I could feel it. The wind, the song on the radio, the world around me. In that moment, I felt invincible. I was immortal. Then I opened my eyes to see bright white lights that blinded me. And then, bam! I could feel the car levitate off the road. Everything was in slow motion until the airbag exploded in my face. The next thing I could make out was red and blue flashing lights. Police were standing around and medics were lifting me onto a gurney. I looked over and out of the corner of my eye I could see Allison face first in the asphalt. I tried looking I kept looking for Jake, but I couldn't find him before I blacked out. When I woke up in the hospital, the police informed me that Allison was dead and Jake would never walk again. And then they left. If I had been the one to say no, I'd ruined the lives of my 2 best friends. Allison is dead and Jake will never walk again. Allison and Jake told me that nothing bad would happen and that getting caught only happens to other people. If I hadn't agreed to go to that party knowing there would be alcohol— I have to live with what I did for the rest of my life. If only I'd just said no.
I'm sorry.
Let's just start off with the fact that those who have the courage to go to the school bathroom deserve a medal of valor. 'Cause I mean, come on, what's worse than having to drop your pants in a cold tile box that smells like death as you stare at the world's lamest graffiti on the stall door? But what makes it go from awful to the worst is when you walk into a whole group of people just hanging out. And it's just like, ugh. Why are you doing that? Now, of course, I can't pee because I got a whole group of people staring at me judgmentally, and it's just like, why? This is a bathroom. I have to pee, and this is a bathroom. So that's already the worst, but it becomes even more of a spectacle when you walk into the bathroom to the smell of nicotine mango or cigarette ripoff mint, and you think to yourself, Ah yes, these children are juuling. I now have to pee in a bathroom full of vape smoke. And immediately I'm just rolling my eyes. Do they not have anything better to do? They're like 15. Why have they resorted to getting nicotine addictions in janky school bathrooms? And it's one thing to do it, which is already bad enough, but they just think it's so cool to juul, huh? They think it's so awesome to vape. They think it is the pinnacle of human existence. To get the shakes because their teacher wouldn't let them out of 3rd period to go to the bathroom. Yeah, so for 5 minutes I've been standing here watching in awe as these teens stand in a circle and destroy their lungs, and guess what? I still have to pee.
Hi guys! Hey!
It's Millie Ways here to introduce you to the power of no. No is a simple tool to use. So simple, it can be used by anyone, by any age. No can save you time, money, family, and years of your life. No is fueled by the air you breathe, powered by all that advice your mama and your health teacher gave you. Teacher is always giving you. By adding no to your common sense, using no is no problem. Weirdo wants you to smoke some pot. Hey, man, y'all trying to smoke some pot? Hit him with that no. Ow! Sharing all your information on social media websites. My Social Security number is— Tweeting no to that. Backspace. Thanks, Millie. And friendly neighborhood weed man wants to hook you up.
Hello, I'm the neighborhood weed man. Would you like to smoke some pot?
He's gonna hear you no and walk away, 'cause ain't nobody got time for that. But since you're not already stoned, you do have time to call 1-800-USE-COMMON-SENSE. And don't worry about the money, Because we know in this economy you don't have any. Scrolling through Pinterest, I see DIY hand lotion Top 10 teen room designs, essential oil advertisements, and the arm of a teenager damaged by a razor blade. The link attaches to a Tumblr page wherein lies thousands of images of splits in skin and pill bottles and crammed medicine cabinets. I can't stop scrolling. Each photo is tagged #depression.
#selfharm.
#suicide. The comments are worse. Beautiful. My hands shake as I look and imagine the people who document their Struggle not to ask for help but to seek validation for their self-destruction. They seem to have found their platform because these pictures are reposted and liked over and over again. They found fame as a tortured soul with the camera, a contest to see who can cut the deepest, rejoicing in their pain because it makes them special, it makes them beautiful, and it boosts their page to the popular list. Suffering is not something you swim in and spread to others. The prescriptions that help some of us cope are nothing to be envious of. Depression is not a social platform. Depression is not a tool to boost your number of followers. Depression is not a sympathy advertisement for you to like my pictures. Depression is when you feel like you have no one. And depression is not an aesthetic. People, my friends, they tell me I've changed. You know, like that's some kind of new information. It's like, what's wrong? What's wrong? And then they tell me, you know what? You've changed.
I've changed.
Like change is some kind of dirty word. I don't like it. I think what it is is people like feeling like they've got you all figured out. But the truth is, I don't even feel like I have me figured out. And I've realized that when you don't really know who you are, people like to try to tell you who you are. And that doesn't sit well with me. My life changes, you know? It changes all the time. Everything around me, always changing. And people expect me me to be the one thing that doesn't? You know when something stops changing? When it dies. Sometimes there's going to be people in my life who don't want to grow with me, and I'm learning to be okay with that. It's like, how can I make room for new people when I'm too busy hurting myself holding on to all these people who don't even want to stay? I guess what I'm saying is I really think it's time for It's time for me to start letting them go. That it's safe for me to start letting them go. Thank you.
Why? That's the first question they ask when they find out what happened. Why would you hurt yourself? I never knew what to say. It took so much time to get over it, and it took so much time to stop, but it keeps bringing me back to that one question.
If I had known all the reasons I was hurting, I never would have cut myself in the first place. Everyone I've ever told, everyone I've ever opened up to, has only wanted to know I don't know.
I didn't know then and I don't know now. I mean, even though I was able to get help and talk it out with someone, I still can't figure out why.
It was an impulse, and once it happened, it just kept on happening and happening. It was like I lost control for that short period of time.
Cutting is no different from a drug addiction. I'm told that cutting is a lot more common in teens Since than adults. you know what you're doing is bad and wrong and you're hurting yourself, and you're literally hurting yourself, you still get this overwhelming need? I still get that overwhelming need every once in a while.
And even though—
I mean, I think the better question isn't to ask why, but what are the reasons for me to stop?
I can't explain why, but if I can help just one other person because I've been where they are, I've experienced what they're experiencing, then I think, why does it matter anymore?
Just know there are things you can do to redirect your attention. Sometimes I hold a piece of ice, or I draw on my arm. Sometimes I keep a rubber band on my wrist and I snap it every time I get the urge.
I try to imagine myself having to explain the scars on my arms and legs to the children I want to have one day. I know it's hard, but there are a lot of people out there who can support you. Just know that you can get help.
Just know that you can get help.
It does get better. Hey teens, stop stressing and start pressing the play button, that is, to Teen Bop's newest stress album. So crack under pressure and listen to the newest jams featuring hits like Too Much Information by Beyond Grades. Ooh, ooh, ooh. She could have gave me that one extra point, but no. All this schooling, life, and Shryfman just got me stressed. Sorry, Mr. Teacher, swear that I tried my best. Doing homework, tired of this, no sleeping, mad. Bailey! All this schooling, life, and Shryfman just got me stressed. Yeah, gotta learn Shakespeare for drama. Yeah, my math got 80 problems. Yeah, now I gotta do Do it or get grounded by my mama.
Why do teachers think this work is so simple?
Right until I run out of lead in my pencil. Yeah, I'm so stressed and yes, my sleeping hours limit. You gotta answer. I gotta answer due for class. I need sleep. I want it. I'm tired in the morning. A test here, a test there, man. I'm so exhausted. Gotta turn in.
Paper.
No, you won't. Test, a math quiz, can't use a calculator. Wait, we can't use a calculator? Yeah, you see, I would, but the way my back is set up, I'm gonna have to go. No one can resist the catchy lyrics to this great Katy Perry classic, Failed Course. So you wanna pass your classes? You don't even know what to study for. A 50 on your report card? Now you're looking at a failed course. Now you're going to, going to—
Summer school!
Summer school, summer school. If you wanna graduate, graduate—
Graduate!
Gotta educate. She's a beast, a beast. I call her Mama, Mama. When I don't do my work, here comes that drama, drama. You better work, better get some A's, A's. 'Cause if you don't, you gonna repeat your grade. This next hit will have you double-checking your next text. Pics of You by Ed Sheeran. I saw those pics of you. You thought you sent them to your boo, but then he sent them to those dudes. Now we've all seen your body, and now when you come to school, they're all party shaming you. The principal and teachers saw them too. They're sending pics of your body. Why, oh why, oh why, oh why? Have more respect for your body. Oh wow, oh wow, oh wow, oh wow. Okay, y'all are nasty. Stop looking at her body because you're going to jail. Underage. Clink, clink. Or this hit, Thank You Stress by Ariana's Grades Are Dropping. Procrastination. I'm just so lost. I don't understand this. Wish this stress was gone because now I'm crying. And for that I say thank you, stress.
Stress.
Thank you, stress.
Stress.
Thank you, stress.
Stress.
I have to study for my test. Thank you, stress.
Stress.
Thank you, stress. Thank you, Jess. I forgot, I forgot to study for my test. What's the answer? Abraham Lincoln? We are in math! And newest to the album, New Rules by Doin' No Sleeper. I ain't get no sleep last night, doing all my homework. Get better grades, get better grades. Wrote it out and read them out, hoping they would save me. Too late at night, too late at night. My grades, mom says I need to get better grades, get better grades. But my grades, my grades keep falling back, back to Fs, back to Fs.
1.
I think I fail in math, I just don't get a thing in class.
2.
This test is stressing me, I'm gonna fail biology.
3.
High school is bad, and now my mom is really mad. If I don't get some A's, I won't get a word of praise. I got bad grades, don't want them. Now let's get lit with this next hit, Stressing Me by FFF. Test I got on. Yes, cute. I'll write it down. Okay. Look, look. Hey, school is just always a drag. Hey, taking my books to my bed. Hey, I came in too late for class. Hey, now I'm beside the egg. Hey, I promise I did my best. Hey, but I got an F on the test. Hey, teacher just got me so stressed. Hey, hey, I'm just feeling depressed. Hey, I gotta get out of school. Hey, I got an essay to do. Hey, I got some homework to do. Hey, but tomorrow's the due. My grades are good as a parent. Gotta explain to my parents how come I'm messing it up. Why school feels so tough. Stop stressing me, stressing me. He's stressing me, stressing me. Stressing me, stressing me, stressing me.
Yo, when I tell you I love half my cast to academic probation.
Half my cast to academic probation. After a hard day's work, just pop, just pop in this next hit, See You Again by Stewie No Sleeper.
All right.
It's been a long night without laying in bed, and I'll tell you all about it, but right now my brain's dead. There was way more work than the teacher had said. Oh, I need 9 hours of sleep before I lose my head. I'm up, I'm up. You're up, hello. Team Bop, so nice to hear Starbucks or grocery store right next to Red Bull or ibuprofen.
I've always been afraid of showing people the real me. Cliché, I know, right? I could just never bring myself to do it. People always think I'm this person that's happy all the time and I don't have a care in the world, but I do. I do care. It's like I'm drowning and nobody can see me desperately gasping for air. See, I used to think depression was for the weak white girls. I know that sounds crazy, but in my community it was always, be a man, real men don't cry, handle your business. See, I was always taught that I had to be strong and there was no time to be But now I know that way of thinking is wrong, and if you are depressed, you are not weak. If anything, you are one of the strongest people for pushing through. Depression doesn't see color. It is not something that comes to certain races, and it does not mean that I am sad all the time. It's time for all the misconceptions to go away and for everyone to understand that I have depression, but it will never, never define me. Have me.
So art. Zoloft and Prozac. Zoloft and Prozac and Ritalin. Zoloft and Prozac and Ritalin and melatonin. Zoloft and Prozac and Ritalin and melatonin and coffee. These are my favorite school supplies. These are the things that walk me through my day. These pills write my essays. My medication solves problems. Maybe masks the trauma built off of bullies and cliques. My medication solves problems. I want so desperately I want to smell honey and hear wedding bells. But if I fail one more test or miss an assignment, I'll be stuck in this off-white brick box. And all I'll smell is rotting dreams and 90-minute mark bells.
Ritalin.
So I work. I work and I work and I cram my head, fill it with nothing but logarithms and vocab definitions as they rip my heart from my head like some kind of nuclear schoolyard fission. Why is it that I want to kill myself over synthetic division? But I have to focus. Focus, focus, focus. Focus, focus, focus, don't let your mind wander, for if one second you're off task or beat, you find yourself falling from this fableistic 4.0 elite, and you can't, I can't.
Prozac.
My grades aren't just numbers nor report cards, just letters instead, predictions of my future. These letters determine if I'll die alone. These numbers give me my paycheck, and the higher the letter, the happier, right? And the bigger the number, the better, right? But if it's low, oh, if it's low, I may be out on the streets and no place to go. There's nervousness, malnourishment, My focus, so as I'm obsessing on keeping these numbers high, they drop out of sight and the letters pass me by. My future slips through my fingertips. I'm nervous, so nervous.
So lost.
This environment thrives on routine, on one after the other, day after day, and it revels in ritual, whereas routine and ritual suck their students gray. The flavor from my food, the pigment from my pens, the thoughts from my head— where words and ideas once dripped from my fingertips, there lies a numbing sensation A sensation like static or pinpricks. May God have the mercy to let the doctors fix it.
Melatonin.
At night I lay awake, head racing from the day, running from the idea of repeated offense. Come morning, my shoulders have been no less tense, and I'm tired, but my eyes are held agape by wires, and electricity is produced from my tapping, but I can't sleep. I won't sleep.
Coffee.
And then there are the nights that I prop the wires myself. Where sleep means failure. A good grade may be the only thing for which I yearn, but classroom tests are not a measure of how much you learn, rather a measure of how good you can memorize, how well you can string the wire through your eyes, how hard you can work yourself, how much you can study, how late you can stay up. Maybe it's all worth it. Maybe one day I'll feel pride. Maybe then I may lie and rest my eyes. Maybe I'll be able to breathe enough to sigh. As I walk from my school, a graduate, a school-educated citizen who writes school-educated poems.
Thank you.
There was a lot of blood in the sink and bruises on my body. He kept screaming about how I was useless and stupid, and if I said one word of protest, good old Dad would drag me up the stairs, staining the carpet yet again. I thought my mom would understand, but she's scared of him, and she blames me too.
I'm sorry.
I think she's afraid to leave him, so I better just shut my mouth and not tell anybody. They say if I don't fix my attitude, they'll kick me out, but if I run away, I'll be charged on the terms of undiscipline. But if I was 6 or 7, this wouldn't even be happening at all. Everybody would just swoop in and save the innocent child from being beaten for no reason. But because I'm 15, I just better shut my mouth, not tell anybody. I think she's afraid to leave him, so I better just shut my mouth and not tell anybody. So my mouth is to blame. Not their words, not their actions, not their fists, but me. I dream of running away from this place, but I have nowhere else to go. So either I can stay and be completely miserable and beaten, or I can leave and go God knows Sometimes I actually do think it's my fault. That this wouldn't be happening if I was just a little different. That maybe I deserve it. That maybe I should just let the bruises stay because they seem to be the only ones who care what really happened. No. No, I know none of this is my fault. My dad's fault or Did the same thing to him, but I can promise you one thing: I will be the first person in my family to stop this cycle of abuse. I never understood. I never understood why people were so afraid of the monsters in their closet. I never understood what was so frightening about shirts and shoes and coats on hangers. I was never afraid because there was nothing in my closet that I didn't put there. It wasn't until I grew up that that closet seemed claustrophobic. It wasn't until I realized the pain behind the eyes, the fear behind forced lies, that I realized that the closet stored more than what belonged there. The closet was where the forgotten things go. The place you store that which is unfit to be seen, that which you don't When guests come to visit, the closet is the most exquisite home to the messes that previously clutter your own. Your closet is lined with cleaning products, Clorox, Windex, whatever you can use to scrub away the muck, whatever you can use to clean up, to make yourself deserving to be seen, to be judged. I never understood why people were afraid of the monsters in their closet until I grew up and realized that the monsters they saw were themselves struggling to break free. I'm not afraid of the monster in my closet because I'm not afraid to be me. I'm not afraid to be me. To walk hand in hand with the partner of my choosing, and I'm not afraid of people who don't understand why people should be respected. I'm not afraid of the things in my closet. I'm not afraid of the pride flags or pronoun pins. And I am not ashamed. I am proud to share my preference. I'm proud to tell the world who I am. I'm proud of the so-called monster in my closet. Because a monster is just something we don't want to confront or understand. And I understand who I am. I am gay. I am bisexual. I am a friend and ally. And I am not afraid. I was up late again. It's no surprise because I'm always up late. I get up, get ready, go to school, come home, try not to think about homework, think about homework, do homework till 1, 2, maybe even 3, and then do it all over again. You know, I can't remember to pack my lunch in the morning or kiss my mom goodnight, but I remember the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell, so I guess that's good.
Achoo!
I don't even see my family anymore, but I have an A+ in Spanish, so I must be doing something right.
Something, right?
I'm always tired, and when I'm tired, I sleep, and when I sleep, I fall behind, and then I stay up late to catch up, and all of a sudden I'm tired again. The cycle never ends, and I'm so tired of the cycle never ending. You know what? No, I'm a kid, a teenager, and don't get me wrong, school is important, but friends, family, sleep, and a good meal that isn't a Pop-Tart at 10 PM— those things are important too. Don't forget it, and don't let these special moments pass you by when you're too busy looking down at your math notes or studying for a test you've already studied hours for. It's okay to take a break every once in a while, to breathe. Don't forget that you're a human too, not a robot on a never-ending work spree. Your body needs rest for the next day, and your stomach needs food to stay alert in class, and your heart needs to laugh and joke, and have human connection. School is important, but don't let the stress get to you. Take a breath, get some sleep, and know everything will be okay. Whatever it is that you see when you look at me, 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? Is it because the way I talk, the way I move? What is it? I'm tired. Tired of being the laughingstock of class. Tired of saying one thing and you feel like you have to say another to make me look stupid. You're stupid. What's funny is that when you're with your friends, you say hi to me, but when you're alone, you just don't talk to me. But guess what? I don't need you. What you say affects me, but I am not going to let it affect my life. I mean, you're not going to be in my life 10 years from now, so why should I care now? You see, what you think is weird, someone else thinks is cool, and what you think is ugly, someone else in the world thinks is the most beautiful thing. I don't care about your thoughts and your opinions. I am focused on me, my goals, and my life. But if you have the time to talk about me behind my back, take that same time to acknowledge me face to face. So I ask you again now, when you look at me, what do you see? People don't understand. They really. They really don't. They think they do, but how could they possibly understand what I'm going through? Every day is another forced smile, another, I'm okay. Every single day is another struggle where I'm afraid I might break. But I don't want to break. I want to go on. I want to do things when I grow up. I want to change the world. If I'm gone, there's no way I'll accomplish all the things I've dreamed of. If I'm gone, I'm just gone. There's no way anything will ever get better. I just want to get better, but it feels like there's no way out, like I'm all alone. If I asked for help, no one would listen. If I asked for help, I would be laughed at, turned aside. If I asked for help, I wouldn't get it, so why even try? Sometimes I just want to die. It's a weird feeling when you regret something that someone else has done. It's an even weirder feeling when you regret something that someone else has done to themselves. She mattered to me. She mattered to a lot of people, which is why we're all so confused. Confused because she never told anyone. Confused because she always seemed so happy. Confused because now we have to refer to her in the past tense. She didn't ask for help. When I found out, I felt a lot of things. I cried and I yelled and I called her foolish and I called her selfish and I called her cruel, but in that moment she wasn't any of those things. She was just gone. And I blamed everyone. I blamed myself and I blamed her. I don't know why. She did it. Everyone has some guesses. She was such an amazing person, they say. Well, she hadn't thought so. She was such a good person, they say. Well, I wish she would have known. She had such a good heart, they say, but it wasn't good enough to keep beating when she asked it to stop. Whatever her reasoning may have been, I wish I could have helped her. I know I could have helped her because she mattered to me. And now we all regret that she's gone, and she will never know that what she's done has hurt all of us. Your life is a story that has yet to be told. No more fairy tales or dragons that Nothing ever gets old. You wrote it, you live it, now make it how you want it. Don't settle for someone else's version of your story. Conformity is boring. You pick the cast, you set the scene, you have control. Set your goals, your biggest dreams, things you hope to achieve. This is our story. We speak it because we live it, not because of the color of our pigment or our interests, our sexes, things we identify as, our families, or struggles we've had in the past. This story was generated from our lives to yours. There's something to remember when you walk out of We are just like you. The only difference is experience, and someday you'll get that too. Oh, and remember one more thing. It's your life. You mess up, you get up, you do things that you regret. That's called life. It's something that we can't figure. It's your turn now to make your own big picture. So like I said, your greatest story is still incomplete. So go out and make today— The beginning of your masterpiece. Hey!
Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey.
Listen, listen, listen, look. I done been through a whole lot trying to please everyone, and it's so hard hating every day that goes by trying to change everything that I do and I say. But as I look around me, no matter what I do, they still doubt me. So no matter what they do, I'm gonna stand up and say proudly, I love myself. The world is a place everybody must choose a side. I love myself. But you can do what I want, whatever I want. I don't mind. I love myself. See me, you gotta get up. Life is more than suicide. I love myself. One day at a time, the sun gonna shine.
Wonder what's wrong with your lady? Lady, what you gonna do?
What you gonna do?
Got another neglect and keep bruising.
I'll move on like you're supposed to.
Keep on clashing, no love when he's breaking your heart. Drunk texting, breaking up in his car. He said he loves you, but he's only company, but he's sleeping around. When y'all apart, 'cause everybody got their own problems. Everybody got their own problems. Only thing that make you different, you got a son. How many times you gonna suffer broken promise?
I love myself.
Yeah.
What else you can say about it? I love myself. I love myself. You can do whatever, whatever you want, I don't mind. I love myself. You gotta get up, life is more than suicide. One day at a time. I got school on my mind and grade on the ground. Bullying is a weapon that they use all the time. It's a crime forcing people to commit suicide. I believe in myself, so I know I'm gonna shine. Hey, ducking, ducking, message, knowledge, my only protection. Bullying and rejection, but I still love my reflection. Racism's out here to try to get Still searching for the new strategy. Till it's happy. It's a happy fantasy, it's a facade, 'cause I love myself. The world is a place where everybody must choose a side. I love myself. I can do what I want, whatever I want, I don't mind. I love myself. You gotta be here, that's life, it's more than suicide. I love myself. One day at a time, the sun gonna shine. I said no more shame, man. No more shame, man. I said no more shame, man. More abuse. No more abuse. Say no more crying. No more crying. No more stressing. No more. So love yourself. I love myself. I love, I love.
I love, I love.
I love, I love.
I love, I love.
