This isn’t fair, I worked too hard on this paper. I spent countless nights studying this dumbass topic. Who the hell cares about the fall of the Roman Empire? It fell! It’s 2018, this doesn’t benefit my generation at all. You gave Sandy a 90 and she barely met the requirements, you said we had to type a 2,000 word essay, double spaced, 12-point font, and in mla format. She didn’t even make it to half of the word requirements and her layout was a mess. I started this the day it was assigned and continued to do research along the way. She even told me she started Saturday when you gave us 3 weeks to do this. You even put the “no exceptions, all late work will receive a zero” in bold red letters at the top of the paper where we had to sign our names. She turned it yesterday, it was due Saturday!

This isn’t the first time you handed out A’s to those who don’t deserve it and you still, somehow, find it okay to give low grades to students who do exceptional work and exceed many of your expectations, which, might I add, are very low expectations. What do you think, we’re dumb? Anyways, you did the same thing with Bobby when he wrote his essay on the importance of religion. You did the same thing with Sameera when she wrote about the justice system and how the name itself contradicts itself when it comes to a certain race *cough* african americans. You did the same thing with James when he had to make a report about global warming. And funny thing is, they all happen to be of darker toned skin.

Look, all I’m saying is Sandy is a very light person with very wealthy parents who somehow got her into Harvard who you happen to be very close with. I mean, why else would she invite you to dinner on the holidays? I however, got a full ride here based on my hard work and nearly flawless assignments. All of them, beautifully written in its own existence. So, professor Bower, I am asking you to consider changing my grade. I’m tired of asking for extra credit, I’m tired of staying up late when you clearly seem to think it doesn’t benefit my work at all, I’m tired of raising my hand in class only to be ignored and shunned by your ignorance, I’m tired of you letting Sandy think she’s on my level, and I am sick and tired of your race preference. We’re all students here at Harvard. White, Black, Hispanic, Asian, you’re going to have to deal with your stereotypes of these brilliant students being shattered by reality. Education does not belong to one race, and your racism does not belong here.

You and I both know I didn’t deserve this 90, the least I should’ve gotten was a 98, nothing less. Sandy continues to think she’s up to par with me and you let her believe it. She even asked once if I could study with her, I don’t even think she could grasp any of my studying strategies.

You are a weak minded man and you’re cheating the educational system with your favoritism and your prejudice against us black people. You continue to ignore our intelligence and look to the whites for someone to thank when we do something exceptional. As I once had to, learn to equally love each race as their own and learn to make an attempt to put aside the stereotypes and give credit when it’s due. Now can you please change my grade, you’re ruining my record.

Nate, what are you doing with my phone? Come on just -sighs- ok yes, I’m cheating on you. Baby, please, I’m sorry. Please just let me explain, alright. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen, it just kind of did, ok. I know you’re upset, more than upset, but just hear me out. How long? 2 months, his name is- you’re right, he doesn’t matter right now. What matters is me explaining myself.

When it first started you were working crazy hours, I was proud of you for getting that promotion, but Nate, you changed. Haven’t you noticed what it’s done to you, to our relationship. You’re distant, and you’re always too exhausted to have a conversation. You became monosyllabic and when you did talk in full sentences it was only ever about work. Did you really just say that to me, Nate? You were selfish, you didn’t care about what was happening in my life. And I tried to keep this relationship going, but you gave me nothing. If you had been complaining about your boss or some co-workers the day before, I would make that dish you like, chicken cordon bleu, to cheer you up. Maybe I’d get a quick thank you, maybe, but that was it. I even went to that stupid networking event with you and you know how much I hate wearing cocktail dresses and heels. I spent the whole night hanging out with someone’s grandmother while you were busy kissing up to your boss. I tried to save this, but it takes two to tango right? I don’t know why you’re so surprised. I mean, did you think I was just going to sit around and wait for you to remember how to be a good boyfriend? If that were the case I’d be waiting an eternity.

I’m sorry that this was so abrupt, but I was worried. I was worried that if you didn’t have anyone in your life things would get bad, or at least worse than they already were. (pause)I know that this isn’t a good time, but do you realize that this is the longest conversation we’ve had in what seems like forever. Laughs What’s he like? Are you sure you want to hear about him? Ok, um well he’s really sweet and smart, he works in marketing. Um, we met at that networking party, oddly enough, and he was actually someone else’s date. He came over and he asked me to dance. When I said sure, he joked and said that he was actually talking to the old lady next to me. He made me laugh so much that night, I hadn’t had fun like that in awhile. Listen, he’s a good guy, I’m the one at fault here. I cheated on you, I lied and I’m sorry. Look at me, what I did was wrong, I’ll admit to that, but don’t act like you’re so innocent. Nate, you’re not the same person that I met a year ago, you let your job change you. You lost your compassion and your heart, and I deserved better than what you gave me.

Do I still love you? Honestly, I think I stopped a while ago, but I did at one point. Sometimes I thought that things would get better, I prayed that they would. There was one night when you came home and you were hammered, but you gave me a hug that lasted longer than 2 seconds. You apologized about letting your job change you, and for a split second I saw a nice future together. Then you woke up, got sober and went to work. Things didn’t change and I found myself wondering how I could still love someone that I didn’t even recognize? Nate, we can’t do this anymore.

Hey, I need to talk to you. I have something I need to get off my chest to you. You’re one of my closest friends and I need to tell you this. Is that cool? Okay, so I wrote some poem type thing.

This is the story of

Me myself and I

Now before we start

I have to tell you one thing

I am a love machine

The best of all time

Now let's start my story

With my most recent love

I remember the day like it was yesterday

I handed her a silver platter of happiness

It had a few side dishes

Love, care and the most important said

I'll make all your dreams come true

You know what she did?

She turned around and said  

"Hey, no way"

And stormed out the room

Saying at the top of her lungs

How much I had hurt her

But that was all a lie

She got off Scott free

She didn't have to pay a fee

I wasn't Scott and I had to pay a fee

The fee was my love machine

Because She had broken it

Now it wasn't all her fault

She wasn't the only one to leave scratches

She was the finale

Now I search for the encore

My encore

The one to fix me

The one to fix my love machine

When I see her

I will have to tell her

About all my scratches

I will say this is

Number 1 number 2 number 3 number 4

And this is CR

She will ask why this one has initials

I will say because this is the one

That broke my love machine

But when I find my encore

She will make my love machine a factory

An encore is all I am looking for

Cause she will find the missing pieces

Of my broken heart

And put them where they belong

This is my closing statement

I wanna leave this with you

Love is a hospital

We will always need it because we wouldn't be here without it

It will always be there but we won't always be there

It will both heal and hurt

But we will all make that call

That "hello 911" call

We will be rushed to the hospital

Then all we can do is wait

And see if this is pain or if this is aid

See if this will break you or if this will make you

Thank you for listening to that. You are one of my closest friends and you deserve to know where my head is at right now. I wrote that in February. I was thinking again about where I am in life. How I feel. And am I okay. I’ve noticed a change in me. I feel so disconnected from this poem now. I’ve seen CR walking down the hallway and my heart doesn’t skip a beat anymore. I don’t feel like they are weighing me down anymore. I don’t feel like she controls me anymore. I feel like I am finally in control of my own life like I can do anything like I can change the world I feel unstoppable. I feel happy. I am happy. My life is going in a good direction and I can’t wait to see where it leads. I haven’t felt like this in years and I finally got that feeling back yesterday. I got up with a smile on my face today and I think you have something to do with that. Recently I’ve been feeling something more than happiness because of you. This is something I’ve never felt before. We’ve been friends for what feels like forever, but something deep inside me wants to be much more than that. I think you’re my encore. Oh okay. That’s fine. I guess I’ll see you around then.

Backbone

Hello mother, how are you today? That's good. No, I’m not fine actually, not fine at all. Well, I am really anxious, mom, I have an exam coming up that I am not feeling great about. I have to cram for it tonight and I am already struggling in the other classes. I feel like I am about to explode inside. I don’t want to do it anymore I’m freaking tired of everything!

On top of all my stress at school, I don’t have time to hang out with friends, and I’m now losing friends. Oh and this morning Cynthia broke up with me. I just want to be done with college. Everyone talks about “the good college years” but honestly these are the worst years of my miserable life. I can’t catch a break mom.

Oh and don’t think I forgot, that I have to take care and raise your kids! I am trying to get through college and just have a life, but I have three kids to take care of. Ever since you left last year, my life has become making sure the kids, are okay, and making sure I can at least slide through school. Now I have to get the kids a babysitter to watch them, so I can go to work in the night. Why? You ask. well, I have to pay the bills now because you decided to stop paying. It’s not healthy for me, mom! I physically feel like crap, because I got zero sleep.

Do not think that I do not love my siblings. I give them all the love that you didn’t. No, you don’t mom! If you really did you wouldn’t have walked out on us. I take care of them well. I was there on Jenna's first day of school, Rocco’s kindergarten graduation, and Phyllis learning to ride her bike. I was there, you weren’t. They rely on me know I have earned their trust. As far as I know, they have no more trust in you, all that trust went out the same door you did when you left.

Even though you left they still need you, heck, I still need you. We are struggling, I don’t have enough money coming in, we are not going to survive. I’m trying I really am. I know things were hard for you, but you can’t just walk away.

I understand the difficulty that you had to face after dad got arrested all those years ago. Ever since that happened you acted differently. I knew from then you would never be the same. Life changed for everyone, it was hard I get it, but that didn’t mean you should’ve just given up. I still didn’t give up and trust me I want to but I know I can’t let the rest of my family down. Dad did something very wrong, but he did not intend for you to walk out on us. Nobody did but you. That’s all you ever think about, yourself.

It doesn’t have to end this way though. This past year has been rough for both of us. I’m sorry for what dad did, and I’m sorry for the limited support you received.  I can’t do this alone mom, and neither can you. We need to be there for each other and be together, as a family. This life is hard enough as it is alone. We might as well just do it together. So what do say we start over, begin a new slate, be a family again. Is it a yes? Mom? Mom? Hello, mom are you there?

Superstar

“Yeah yeah I’m ready for the finals coming up.”

“You already know Ima hoop.”

“Shoot, Ima try to get drafted to the Lakers with my man Lebron.”

“Alright, see Y'all later.”

I’m the best basketball player in my grade, on the East Coast. If anyone tries to 1v1 me… they’re getting dropped. Not even my friends can stick me. My friends are great though. They’ve been supporting in my many years of hoopen’. They’ve been by my side every step of the way and I trust them to the end. And I hardly keep secrets from them. I’ve only kept one secret from them and it’s a secret that ruined my reputation as the best. It’s really funny how I thought I was going somewhere. I thought I could provide for my mom and my brother.  And I don’t know, maybe buy them a house in one of those rich white people neighborhood. It’s kinda funny how salty I was feeling when I got the news from the doctor. I was all like, “I’m the best, I’m going to be in the NBA and be an All-Star.” But then I started to have major heart pains whenever I started playing in games and scrimmages.

My dream was shot down in a matter of 3 words. “You have carditis.”

Apparently, that’s when you have inflammation in your heart. At first, when I heard this I was like, “Oh that stinks.” With very little worry. And so this man just kept on rambling and rambling about the conditions until finally, he said the words that I still hear when I sleep. “You most likely will not ever have a career in any sport, because at any moment, you could drop dead.”

Now when he said this... I…I almost punched him. Does he not know who I am??? I’m Sharod Christopher Smith-Jackson III, and I am going to be the best basketball player in the world!

Striving For Normality

“Do you need help?”

I have been hearing variations of this question for as long as I can remember. I hear it from my teachers, I hear it from my parents, and sometimes I even hear  from complete strangers. They don’t say it, but I can tell that they pity me. After all of these years, it doesn’t phase me anymore. I guess I’ve just come to accept the fact that I’m not like everyone else. Questions like this have become a part of me that I can’t seem to shake, making me question if I am competent enough to live a regular life. I have listened to the doubts of others for too long, and have adopted them as my own.

Every morning when I wake up, I roll out of bed and take a look in the mirror, hoping that the disaster that I call my life was all just a bad dream. But that’s never the case. All I ever see is failure staring back at me; failure to be good enough for the people I care about, failure to change their opinions of me, and most of all, failure to love myself.

I can almost never go unnoticed. Everywhere I go, people stare, thanking G-d for not making them or anyone they care about like me. Honestly, if I was in their position, I would do the same.

I have grown to accept my situation, as well as the fact that there is nothing I can do to change it. I accept that this is the way things are, but I still hate it.

I wish I was like everyone else; never the center of attention, never getting special treatment, and most of all, just being treated like a normal person. Unfortunately, I have lost faith that this will ever be the case. It’s simply not possible for someone like me in today’s society.

Don’t get me wrong, there are many benefits to my situation. I always am allowed first entry into events, I get my own personal restroom everywhere I go, I always have an available parking spot, and many other things that sound great.

But no matter how great the benefits may be, I would give all of them up for a chance to walk, even if it was only for one day. I roll through the streets and dream about what this sensation would be like. I would die for the opportunity to experience this, without hesitation.

So when people who are walking down the street stop to ask me if I need help, all I can do is look down and accept their offer, hoping that maybe someday I won’t get special treatment, that maybe someday I won’t be the center of attention, that maybe someday I will be treated like any other person would be.

After all of these years of figuring out who I am, I am still left with one question. Why? Why, G-d? Why did you have to make me like this?

I’ve been shaking all day I swear. Seriously! I need to know what I got on that test! You know I studied for two weeks straight? Legit any free time I had I would open the textbook and just read it. And re-read it. And re-read it. It felt like my brain was melting. I would try to open my mouth to talk to someone and all that came out was “Cells are the basic unit of life” blah blah blah. (laughs) If I have to read one more sentence about fucking heterozygous genotypes, I’m gonna blow my brains out, seriously.

Wait, here he comes. Oh my godddd I’m so nervous. (in a joking manner)I’m gonna fail it. I just know it. If I fail, will you drop out with me? We can live a happy life under a good ‘ol bridge. Who needs education? (gets the test) Here we go. Two weeks of my life wasted on this. Lets---- (flips paper, suddenly a darker tone) Oh my god. Are you kidding me? This has to be a joke. There is no way. (to teacher) Are you sure this is mine? You’re positive? Shit. (to friends) I got an 82. No, that’s not good, shut up. It’s practically a C. You don’t get into Princeton with a C, do you? (beat, softer, slowly gets louder) I studied for two weeks straight and I got an 82. I memorized an entire chapter of the textbook. Eighty-fucking-two. You might as well just give me a live bomb, cause that’s what this is. (starts flipping through the test)

How did I get this wrong? And this? I know that! Fuck, I hate myself. I don’t know what I’m gonna do. (a realization) Crap, my parents! There gonna kill me. I can’t show them this, they’ll actually murder me in my sleep. Crap. Wait, maybe I can... (to teacher) Mr. Johnson, can I retake this? Like soon? Now, even? I can’t have this grade, I just… I can’t. What do you mean it’s too high? How is an 82 high? This is literally the lowest grade I’ve ever gotten on a test. Ever. (back to friends) What am I gonna do? I can’t have this grade and I know my parents can’t have it. I can already imagine the looks on their faces. It’s that look that makes me feel guilty, furious and miserable all at once. They’re gonna be so disappointed in me. I already know what they’ll say.

“We didn’t sacrifice our whole lives to come to a brand new country for you to get a b, Dahlia! We worked so hard for you and this is how you pay us back! I came from nothing and I still went to Harvard! You have everything and you still can’t do anything right!” Since 7th grade, all that I’ve heard from them is “college college college ivy league ivy league ivy league” I have no freedom anymore. Every hour of my day is accounted for.  (beat) Do you know why I’ve never invited you over? It’s not because I’m secretly ashamed of my immigrant parents or my dishevelled home. It’s because I have literally zero free time anymore, my parent make sure of it. They think because they had a hard life that I should too. Do you know what I do every day? Do you? Every morning I have up at 5 to make sure I look perfect because they can’t raise a trashy daughter. I drive myself to school and go to three classes barely getting down all the information they’re shoving in my brain and writing notes I can barely read. I eat a 15 minute lunch cramming down the “Perfect Nutritional Meal”. Three more classes. On to Student Government where, again, I write down the ridiculous requests that the students make, knowing that nothing will ever get done to fix them, and then after all that,do I get a break? No. Of course not. Because then I have Cross Country where I run and run until my heart is in my throat and I feel like I’m literally dying. Because god forbid I have a little fat on my stomach. (fake excitedly) Gotta Build up that resume! On to my five hours of homework! Do the math problems, read the history textbook, make the science presentation, memorize Spanish vocab, write the English essay. Still. Not. done. Study for what feels like the thousands of upcoming tests and when it's finally midnight I fall into my bed and as I fall asleep I recite memorized math formulas while simultaneously trying to remember what I had for lunch this morning. I am so sick of it.

One day I’m gonna get out of here, I swear. I’m gonna go to some bullshit college in California as far away from family as I possibly can. Fuck Princeton. (laughs) They’ll be so mad at me! But what are they gonna do about it? And maybe I won’t even go to class. Just sit in my dorm all day basking in all of my free time. I won’t even do anything with it. Just sit there. One day. One day….

(back to teacher, calm) Thanks Mr. Johnson. Sorry I’m such a brat. (beat) You know? This test doesn’t matter. None of this does. (sighs) What class do we next?