Let’s go to the movies,

let’s see a show.

Heroes, villains, romantic obstacles,

love-struck teenagers,

a frantically ticking bomb.

 

Eyes glaze over as the stars speak their lines,

their smiles ablaze as they sashay across the silver screen.

What have they taught me?

What have I seen?

 

A girl is an outcast, the boy’s a jock.

Cheerleaders spiral through the air,

and carelessly mock.

This is Hollywood’s high school.

 

But what about reality?

Entering high school the scenes of ridicule flashed across my eyes,

threatening to overpower the view in front of me.

What would I share after four years?

 

Here I am,

alive and well,

here to tell the truth,

my truth.

 

There were no taunts,

no side-ways glances,

no insecurity, fear,

or lack of chances.

 

There were no days,

locked in a bathroom stall,

my personality never wavered,

I knew who I was and I was not changing.

 

I wear high-heels,

red lips,

and a mane of uncontrollable brown hair.

 

I wear girly dresses,

and weather-torn leather,

black skin-tight jeans,

and corduroy bell-bottoms.

 

I am not fearful,

I am not shy.

I can metamorphose into a social butterfly,

or put down roots and become a couch potato.

 

I love my parents and brothers,

they are my best friends.

They make me laugh to the point of tears,

they made me wise beyond my years.

 

I am who I am,

and would never change,

high school is over,

but I’m proud to say, I stayed the same.