I remember when I first applied, I imagined beautiful things

I knew my life would change.

I didn’t think that it would be

I would start to think

no one will ever

listen,

listen to me

 

On the day I hit send, for all those hours of work

I couldn’t predict what they’d be worth

to the english teaching checking

me up and down for mistakes,

to my new math teacher

telling me, it was

great.

 

Today I still don’t remember what I sent,

whether my words or mine twisted

and warped by those with age

greater than my own.

Did I send my own work,

or my parents’?

 

They said, We’re looking out for you

just listen, because our age

gives unrestricted access

to wisdom. And it is

the wisdom you

find, a year

from the day

I got my letter.

 

Only they didn’t take me on paper, they said

We don’t do interviews, so the day I got

an email saying Come talk to us,

I started to sweat through

every shirt I owned.

 

I made it through and I only told sixteen lies,

I was so proud, the only one the mattered

was the name I loved. They spelled

the one I hate wrong, I never

thought that name could

hurt more than when

it was pronounced

but it did, when

they got it

wrong.

 

On June 15th, one month from the day of my acceptence,

you took something from me that has no real price

there is no way to repay it, nothing can forgive

you for this grievance there simply,

is no penance.

 

On August 15th, two months since your horrifying act

started, I came to this kingdom of geniuses.

You said Explore and learn it all.

How could I resist you?

You forced a paper

in my hands and

told us Sign

you life

away

 

On September 15th, I realized my teacher hated me

more than I hate that name, more than I hate you

for making it so bland and American.

Because I am not your average

anything, American

especially.

Deall?

 

On October 15th, I heard you say Suck it up,

that was the first time no one listened to

my truths. Everyone’s ignored my lies

but when reality fell from my mouth

people listened, shocked

in awe, confused

intrigued.

 

On November 15th, I died a bit inside.

It was my fault. I had three fails.

No one else played a role.

On November 15th,

you told me

Suck it

 

On December 15th I sobbed for ages, you said

You aint coming back hon, no one wants to

Hear your lies. But they weren’t they

were my pain. I named my pain

and I finally hated a name

more than your version

of my original,

rough draft,

name.

 

On December 30th you said You can come back

But only if you grovel. So I did I didn’t care

then about any of the fifteen reasons

why I needed to leave because

you said Get out, I needed

to stay more than I

needed self-

respect.

 

On January 5th I was so nervous, that I practiced

my patheticness in front of the audience of

import, you. I recieved a standing O.

I have never known a better

actor and I have never

been so sick that

I needed to

cry to get

better

 

On January 15th you took my freedoms away from me

You didn’t want any repitition of fail-fail-failure.

It happened anyway because you shoved

me off into a corner and threw more

work down my throat than any

human could handle

while keeping a

handle on

sanity.

 

On February 15th I cried because I did not want to be sixteen

So close to the day I began this long contract, where my

soul became your own. Own me with your lose book

of rules and regulations of which you do not care

about until we become rich or bring on a bad

name to you. You. You. You. You. You.

You did it all on your own.

I swear to God it

wasn’t any of

us who

did it

 

On February 15th I talked about life to my best friend,

he took me to one of you, to make sure that

I would be here on February 16th so

that you could still tear me apart

like a new piece of rawhide.

Well here I am, chew

me up and spit me

out, claim my

success!

 

On February 27th, I turned sixteen

I tried to take me own, short,

short. Short. Short, life.

Suck it up. You told

me Suck it

up.

 

On March 15th I met the only one of you who listens here,

Perhaps it’s because he’s human. You might want

to try it sometime, anytime, all the time. Please.

I burst into his office like a rainbow set on

murder. He and I talked about you.

He hates you too. Just like

I hate your rough copy

of my rough draft

name that I

already

hate.

 

On March 15th, no one

took me to see you to

make sure you

could still

hurt me

on the

16th.

 

On March 30th I cried and screamed to my mother

Get me out of here, Get me out of here, They

are killing me, Toying with my internal

organs, seeing how much pressure

they can apply until they can use

my stomach to mix in with

cement to lower the

cost of building

new torture

chambers.

 

On March 31st I told you I was crazy, a side effect

of living, not being sat on by a trillion ton

building filled with cardboard people,

each with their own trillion ton

egos. They all told me to

Suck it up. Because

you are them.

 

Tasteless.

Colorless.

Heartless.

 

On April 15th there were balls of hail raining down on us

that when one hit me on the head, I knew, I knew

that I was only crazy for staying here as long

as I did. Because you said Suck it up.

And I did, I sucked up all the pain

and problems with you into my

lungs and spit it back out

into your face. Students

who suffered like I said

Calm down, I

got through it just

fine without complaint.

They win nothing for such things.

Everyone loses when you just Suck

it up and make everything your,

no, my, my fault. Death is

my fault I opened this

Pandora Box by

cliicking that

send key.

Mine.

 

On May 15th, I got my letter and I signed my life away

but I took it back from you because I signed the

divorce from my sick spouse of administration.

I signed the prenup to my new marriage the

very same day. On May 15th I told you

that I choose my health and happy,

happiness over any prestige.

Especially when you make

me hate the original,

rough, rough draft

of my very first

name.

 

On June 15th I will send a letter to the only sane one of

you by a series of tubes. It will read I miss him, and

I am sorry he will have to watch bright and new

students fade from the beautiful constallations

they are because there is you still lurking

there in the dark corner of life, making

everything their fault. It is not

because you made this

sick, sick school.

It is our own

fault.

 

On July 15th of last year, I locked myself in the room of 1502, C21,

crying, sobbing, screaming for release. I heard an echo

in the room and I thought someone was mocking me.

It was you. You were in the heads of all of those

students, who I know could hear me wanting

my sanity, wanting penance, as I

wished I didn’t choose this

life of insanity. On July

15th of last year, I

swallowed enough

pills to get me to sleep

until the day after the day after

that day, without seeing you, carved

on to my beautiful face, and you

carving up my beautiful

hated name.