Sixteen

When I was a kid

By Olive Gummerson

Dear Future Kid: 

 

When I was a kid, the IPhone 1 came out in 3rd grade.

I remember staring in jealousy at people who had one, wishing I would someday have the money to buy a million IPhone 1’s.

I remember my parents gave me a broken flip phone and I would pretend I had important business calls to attend to. 

The feeling of euphoria with my imagination only lasted for so long when I realized that what I was holding was actually 20 dollars of plastic that didn’t even work.

 

When I was a kid, I used to bite my nails all of the time. 

The tips of my fingers always red and bloody. I developed the habit early on and could never quit. 

At first it was a common habit. It developed into a coping mechanism. As I grew into my teenage self, my anxiety would saunter near and whatever tiny bits of nail I still had were soon gone. 

I would rip my flesh with my teeth and watch the blood trickle down to my wrist. 

One time, I was so anxious, my whole hand was covered in blood. It actually looked like a set of a horror movie. 

It never fazed me. I never once thought that it was wrong. I was coping. Why was that bad?

As a preteen, I was listening to a teacher talk about self harm and I thought, “Thank God I don’t do that!”

I realize now that 12 years before I knew what self harm was, I had turned it into a daily habit. 

 

When I was a kid, we had to prepare for school shootings.

I remember a particular conversation with my parents about the best place to hide in the school. 

We determined that the safest place was a closet in the science room on the fourth floor. 

Room 421.

 

When I was a kid, I would think about the last time I felt happy. I was scared when I couldn’t bring a memory to mind. 

I would stay in my head for hours just thinking.

If someone were to come up to me and ask me what I was thinking about, I sure would not tell them about how I thought life was so painful, jumping into oncoming traffic would be a relief.

I learned to numb myself from the seemingly everlasting pain with everything the D.A.R.E pledge went against. 

After a long rehabilitation back into my own body, years of therapy, and thousands of dollars for coping skills,  I still don’t have the courage to tell people I still feel the same way I did when I was a child.

 

To you my darling child, embrace every opportunity that life gives you. Some things may hurt. But the hurt is good. It means you are still alive. It means there is hope. It will get better. 

 

When times get excruciating, and it takes every ounce of strength not to reach for that bottle of pills, remember the happy moments you have created. Remember if you keep living, there are bound to be more of those. 

 

I never thought I would have a child; I couldn’t bear the thought of bringing a human into this agonizing and hateful world.

 

I love you. 

 

Olive

 

This poem is about: 
Me
My community
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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