I’m sorry.

I’m sorry that there is so much sorrow and hatred in the world that it can be overwhelming. Each person has their own battles. Their own struggles. The saddest part? Some mask it so well that we are mystified by their smiles, overlooking the tears and pain in their eyes. 

We are shown a small part of a picture, because they choose to crop out the truth. Because they are so hurt, they build walls around their emotions. They are taught that tears are a sign of weakness. That no one cares for them, so they choose to care for you. They grow into who they want to protect them. They ask about your day with interest in their eyes, not because they want to fill in the silence as you are together, but because they want to know what it feels like to have hope. 

Hope. Hope is just a word. Can you describe what hope is? Can you grasp it? Can you feel it? I know that hope isn’t solid, because just like books and poems: It is up to you to decide what you take away from it. 

Just like now, it is up to me to decide what my final words to this school are before I graduate. Are they thankful for everything this school has done for me? Are they full of hatred for certain people? Or are they all about me? I wasn’t sure. 

Am I thankful? 

After reflecting on my last 18 years I’ve come to the conclusion that I am. Of course there are those who have become obstacles to the never-ending race that is life. But, there are people who  I have learned to love. People who I can be around any time of the day. Those best friends I have built for life. I wasn’t planning on shouting out anyone, but this group, MY family, deserves it. Nomin, Julian, Natalia, Michael, Dayanna, and my little sister Anna. You all, while younger by a year or two, bring a happiness I’ve never experienced before. Whether we are cracking eggs full of confetti or gossiping at lunch, I’m never bored. Nom Nom, Juju Bear, Nati, my favorite white boy, DAY-anna, and my Pulga: you are so supportive and deserve everything good, especially my little sister who was born a year and 14 days after me. Thank you for making my senior year memorable. 

Are my final words full of hatred? 

No. At one point I wanted them to be, but not anymore. Not anymore because I learned to realize that even though I have felt pain and sorrow at this school, I can’t blame everyone for it. Ending in hatred is giving up what I have been fighting to have: peace. I want to make things clear: I am not depressed or anything of the sort. But sometimes peace means having one day to myself, knowing that I can be myself without worry of being judged. That’s all I want.

Are my final words all about me? 

Turns out they are, even if for just one paragraph. But I don’t want more. I know if I did, it’d be an endless story that no one asked me to share. So I want to shine a light on those who deserve it the most. Those whose battle scars range from being within to being on the outside. Those who feel pain worse than mine. 

This is to everyone who has felt pain and I want you to know that even the smallest of pain is important. This is to those 49,500 people in 2023 who committed suicide. To those who have thought about it. To those who feel guilty for overlooking their pain. To those that have dealt with the loss. To those soldiers who come back incomplete, mentally and physically. To those who even the simplest of words stuck forever to them, digging further into self-hatred. To those who grew up thinking they were a burden, unwanted, and unloved. To those who grew up too fast. To those who have a bad day. I may not know you, but this is for you. 

Often I have asked myself “why must we hurt?” and I think I have my answer. Because we can’t help it. Because it shatters our soul and breaks our hearts. This may sound awful, but it’s who we are. They shape our thoughts, beliefs, and how we help others. Because in the end, we help others, even through hurting them we are part of the process that shapes them. 

If you resonated or have felt this before: I’m sorry. I hope I helped, even if it’s just a little, to show that I understand what it means to feel the pain that storms your brain everyday but goes unnoticed even by those closest to you.