x equals negative b plus or minus square root b squared minus four a c all over two a

that day in math class, our teacher had us sing this over and over until every single student joined in and had it memorized

it took over twenty times because naturally one student was too damn cool to try

to this day, I can recite this if you ask me to

to this day, I can remember sitting numb in my chair, eyes on the whiteboard, chanting with the rest of the class as my mind folded in on itself, mental origami,  swan bent out of shape

I can explain this formula and factoring and why we root it in the first place

but I can’t explain my empathies or casualties or where my brain is rooted in the first place

before, it was easier for me to focus on formulas and FANBOYS rather than the frantics and fears rolling around the inside of my head

school was my escape from my problems, from my worries, from myself

I could channel the anger and frustration into essays and worksheets and and my report cards came out sterling to counter the tarnished life at home

somewhere along the way, those safety nets turned to nooses

numbers swim before my eyes and in order to care I have to try

a straight A student without thought clashed against a suicidal cutter without heart

doing good in class went from natural to trying to play a part

and I never had the lines

I failed my Math midterm and my mom suggested that I go to my teacher and explain why I did badly

but they don’t make doctors notes for depression

its understandable, its bearable, for a teacher to listen to the death of a relative or getting the flu

but ‘sorry, I was up until three am crying because I’m worthless and bleeding because my razor knows it’ isn’t quite an excuse

my dog didn’t eat my homework but my self hatred did

my anxiety flunked that test because I got so overwhelmed by having so much to do that I shut down like the government and did nothing at all

my eyes saw those notes on the board but my misery ignored them

my late passes have their coffee order memorized like a barista at Starbucks

I know my counselor’s signature so well by now I could write it in my sleep

if I slept

because it seems like no matter how many hours I get I wake up tired simply because I had to wake up yet again

I’m told to get over being a little sad

because people have it much worse

and its no reason to struggle in school

use it as fuel!

but no one seems to realize that my fire already went out

its not a burning passion that makes me want to cry

its a creeping numb that makes me forget to try

even doing the things I love become work

in a world of grey, there’s not a single perk

no matter how nice an A would look