My whole life has come up to this moment. Every step I’ve taken has brought me here, to graduation. 

My school journey has been a rocky roller coaster, jumping from school to school. Instability was stable for me. For nine straight years, I bounced around. I barely kept friends because there was no use, I’d move soon anyways. It was okay, I was used to being alone anyways. Living in my imagination was more comfortable than the reality of my mom always sleeping in her room or my dad working himself to the bone to keep us afloat. 

Creativity is how my emotions flow out. Instead of ordinary tears, graphite strokes and letters form into my sob stories. Drawing characters and writing out my feelings prevents the bottle from overflowing, yet I never take the easy way out. It seems like I am destined to take the path stricken with rocks to tumble over and set me back. 

One thing about growing up almost by yourself is you build a habit of hiding how you feel. You learn to close up your emotions and any inconveniences you may have in hopes of seeming perfect enough for someone to care. You develop this obsession with gaining perfection, so the people who do stay never want to leave. The issue with that is your cup is always full, trying to keep your feelings bottled up while living your life. It breaks you, on a level not even you realize. 

I have become so emotionally fragile from holding myself together with packing tape for all these years. All my feelings leak out of the metaphorical cup every time it fills. Habitual mistakes cause breakdowns and breakdowns make everyone more exhausted. 

Now that life is more stable, it feels like every issue is an aggressive pothole in the middle of the road, like I’m constantly stumbling over my own feet. Now that I’m almost at the first checkpoint, I’m almost relieved to be able to sit down and get a glass of water on this marathon called life. 

This article was edited by Victoria Byers, Kate Duncan and Srinitha Arikati.