High school? The glorious years. When will that come true?

I had been told that high school would hold some of the best years of my life.

The reality of it is something nowhere near close to that promise.

Teachers always say that you can tell us about your problems.

But I have too many to count and would you really care if I told you?

Would you listen to me if I told you I get anxiety attacks often.

Too many deadlines are my problem.

Would you believe me if I told you I'm pulling out my own hair.

Too many tests are my problem.

Would you care if I told you I'm becoming obese.

Too much homework is my problem.

When will me and my problems ever be heard?

I never told them that the stress of being perfect was eating me up alive.

I never told them that I often question my existence on this earth. 

Would any of it made a difference to them, why would they even care?

They become like those monsters under the bed that we so fear.

Why would I ask for your help when you say it’s my fault in the first place?

I feel as if my presence to you is just bones and skin and no heart or soul.

I want to shout out to you but you would just send me to the principle's office.

The end of the day bell rings and it provides me no closure.

I know the minute I walk outside this school the migraines will come back again

Still I try to come out of my studies on top because I know I need an education to succeed.

Key Cub, DECA, Spanish club and Yearbook, I do them all because I want to be better.

It’s 2:30 am if I fall asleep now I would get exactly 3 hours and 30 mins of sleep.

I wake up with migraines and take an Advil to take the pain away.

It’s 1st period and already I have an AP World History test.

When I shuffle my way through the halls to next period SAT Prep class I can feel those walking beside me,

Yet I feel as a ghost walking through them making no physical appearance.

Now the world is a competitive place my parents tell me,

If I want to do well then I have to put up with this catastrophe.

But how much longer will the pressure build,

How much longer until I explode, then would you care?

I feel like a steam train who’s tracks either lead me towards Hades' looming underworld or the tip of Mount Olympia.

I ask myself when will my high school days become glorious?

The image of a long golden gown paired with blue and yellow tassels and a graduation cap begins to form.

Finally the day has come that I break away from the problems of High School and go on to acheive bigger and better things.

The day I graduate is the glorious day my problems are solved.