memoir essay

I Just Want to be Me

Have you ever felt so alone in a crowd of people? Have you ever felt out of place in a place where you’re supposed to fit in perfectly? I have, and it is the worst feeling in the entire world. It’s like you are trying to be someone you’re not. You know you should be like all of them, but you’re not and you don’t really want that kind of life, but it is forced on you, and there is nothing you can do about it.
Walking through the halls of Weightman Middle School, it was our eighth grade year and it should have been so much fun. I have to admit, I have a lot of great memories from that year, but it was also the year that changed my perspective on my own life. I was a cheerleader, I hung out with the popular kids in school, and I got decent grades. I had a boyfriend too, but things just were not working between us, and I wasn’t sure I really even liked him. I was never really happy, although I always forced a smile and laugh. But it was all just an act. I never did anything I wanted. It was always what my friends wanted me to do. My friends literally ran my life. If I broke up with my boyfriend, they would tell me it was the wrong thing because I made him cry, so I would give him another chance. Then, they would tell me I shouldn’t be with him because he would cheat on me, so I would break up with him, and the whole cycle started over again. I didn’t know what to do.
I became interested with a boy in my agriculture class, and I told my best friend, Brittany, about him. She told me that if I went out with him then she and I wouldn’t be able to hang out anymore because her boyfriend and the guy I liked hated each other. I went along with this for a while, but eventually, I couldn’t take it anymore. I broke up with my boyfriend for the final time and started “dating” the new boy.
Once I made the decision to stop listening to my friends I went all out. I would have an attitude with my teachers, I had an attitude with my parents, and I started doing things that I never would have before. In one of our classes I started a flour fight. I also became involved in other fights around the school. I received at least six referrals in that year. I still remained friends with most of my popular friends, and actually pulled some of them into the fights with me. We would start water fights and paper ball fights on the bus. But for some reason, I didn’t feel like me. I didn’t like getting referrals, or fighting with people, but again, I didn’t know what to do.
I didn’t tell anyone how I was feeling, I knew they would just think I was crazy, and wouldn’t be able to help me. Why would they care? How would they know what to do? They weren’t me. They didn’t know my feelings. I came to the conclusion that I would have to figure it out on my own, and no one would be able to help.
So I kept acting as everyone wanted and expected me to act. Doing this, I became more and more stressed out, and more and more angry with myself for not being me. I would become so stressed, that it would start a fight between my friends and me, and my boyfriend and me. One day after one of these arguments, I went home, locked myself in the bathroom and found the sharpest thing I could (a safety pin), and started scratching my arm with it. I wasn’t trying to kill myself or anything; it just relieved my pain and anger. That night I called and apologized to my friends and to my boyfriend. I didn’t argue with my mom that night and I actually sat down and did my homework. It was the first time, in a long time, that I didn’t have any frustrations or worries.
About a week later, a similar fight happened, though this time it was worse. Not only did my boyfriend think I was cheating on him, but it was my so called “best friend” who told him that. I was so angry, that I took out the safety pin in the middle of school, walking to the bus, and literally went off on my arm. I didn’t care who saw me, what they thought, or anything. I just wanted everyone to see how pissed off I was. The more that no one seemed to care, the more pissed off I became. Finally, my friend, Stephanie, grabbed me, took the safety pin, and took me to the bus. She didn’t yell at me or tell me I was stupid, she just sat me on the bus, and rode with me to my house. Half way home I looked at her and said, “thank you.” She didn’t respond she only shook her head. I went home and cried myself to sleep. I slept through to the next day. I didn’t get up for dinner or anything. My mom asked what was wrong and I just told her I was really tired. She didn’t see my arm because I covered it with my sweatshirt.
While I was lying in bed I asked myself so many questions. Why did I do this? Does anyone even care? Would my mom care if she saw? What would she say? Am I the only person doing this crap? Why does it relieve so much pain? I couldn’t answer any of these questions, and that just made me even more upset.
The next day, I was called to the school counselor’s office. She asked me why I did what I did, and I told her it was because I was upset, and it was the only way I could relieve my anger. She asked if I felt bad for what I had done. I know that I should have told her that I did and that I had learned my lesson and I would never do it again. But that’s not how I felt. I didn’t feel bad. I told her it was the only thing in my life that I had control over. She shook her head as she told me she was going to call my mom and tell her. I didn’t care; I figured my mom would just realize that how upset I was.
Looking back now, I was wrong. I did care that the counselor called my mom. I should have known my mom would be hurt by this information. I was so selfish. I realize now that I didn’t do it because I was unhappy with everyone else. I did it because I was unhappy with myself. I was upset with the fact that I would let other people run my life and control who I hung out with, what I did, and when I did everything. I vowed to myself that from that moment on I would live my life for me and not for anyone else.