Pain

            
             Not feeling important, not being as perfect as the next, too fat, too thin, unique and unsure. Those are just a few feelings that enter every teen's mind during their high school years, and for some, even sooner. They silently cry inside wondering why God made them so different from the other kids. Although not willing to admit it, these uncertainties gnaw away at them little by little. .
             When the courage is finally gained and the decision is made to share their feelings with someone, the reply is repetitive. "You shouldn't care what other people think. You are who you are, be happy with it."" It's one thing to think that sentence over and over in their mind and know there's truth behind it. But to actually open the curtain and step out on the stage is completely different, almost reeking. I envy those who get over the stage fright and accomplish this crucial step.
             I am slowly getting up the dauntlessness to achieve this. However, I become blinded as a blanket of depression slips over me. Every time, I pull back the covers and continue my way to the freedom of not caring. Yet what happens when what blinds you isn't a blanket, but instead a quilt? A quilt so heavy that no matter how hard it's pulled the weight won't shift from their chest, until there's renewed hope when a muffled knock echoes through the room. Blackness is the only light they see as suddenly the blanket is stripped away. And there stands the answer to all problems, a back door. .
             The person who knows this escape plan best is my friend Renée. She has stood at that door many times and has tried opening it with many keys. Her first key was small and round with the name Advil inscribed at the center. That key didn't fit, so she experimented with another object. This key was long and narrow, with an extremely sharp edge. She found it while shaving her legs, it was simple enough to pull out, and looked as though it'd fit.