Why Mrs. Brightside? Well first reason is because I love the song Mr. Brightside by The Killers. It's upbeat but also tells a heartbreaking story. I identify with that. I seem happy and I do see the bright side of things but underneath I am sad and a little broken.
I'm the song that makes you get up and dance but also hurts you.
I would say that I'm optimistic which is ironic with the depression and all.
So I hope that explains it.
I want to explain myself a little better. I'll give a little back story; I was born and raised in a small town in Kansas. I went to a small private Catholic grade school and onto a small private high school. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate all the hard work and multiple jobs my parents have done to get me and my three other siblings through an expensive education system but... Going to a small school isn't the greatest for the artist type. Okay, I enjoyed grade school for the most part. But I was always the odd kid. I played football with the guys at recess and drew cats in middle school (thanks to a certain book series about cats it sparked my love for drawing). When I was younger I was pretty outgoing and was friends with everyone, I was fine with running around with my friends getting all scraped up or playing in the dirt by myself making up stories about a desert adventure. Middle school I started growing in my love for art and writing. I wanted to create written worlds that inspired young kids like novels had done for me.
When high school came around, things got harder. I was terrified to go to high school to be completely honest. I thought I would get shoved in a trashcan or locker like in every cliche movie. (Thankfully this never happened and when it did once, I was the one crawling into the small space on my own.) After getting over my initial fears, I got involved in everything I could, well everything a 200 student body high school could offer. I made the damn homecoming banner every year! I was in every play and joined the unofficial drama club that lasted a week. I did forensics, played volleyball and was on the swim team. I tried out for leadership positions and was the camera person for our basketball games. During spirit weeks, I went all out. Freshman and sophomore year were pretty good, even though I had a few detentions for being tardy.
Junior year is when things went downhill. I saw some of the signs during my sophomore year but they weren't bad. It's when I started lying about being sick, lost motivation for most things, and was avoiding all my problems, that I looked up my symptoms. First result was depression. I was scared. I didn't know much about it and I instantly thought "I'm not some sad, mopey, emo kid." My lack of knowledge effected my judgment and caused me to not ask for help until way later. I felt alone for along time, I mean I still do but I felt like I was the only kid who would have moments of emptiness or sadness out of the blue with no explanation. I thought there was something wrong with me. I didn't understand that it was a chemical imbalance and many people felt the same way. I still remember a clear moment of when I realized something was wrong. It was during the summer before my junior year at my part time job as a lifeguard. I was on stand at the local pool. It was hot and I had my whistle in my mouth as I surveyed the area. I was in the middle of a scan when the though came up, "Why am I feeling so empty? Why am I sad?" It's all still very vivid in my head. Next moment that I remember is sitting in the back of my mom's car with my younger sister up front. We were headed home going past the park. I said "Mom, I think I have depression." She came to a stop sign and slowly looked back. "Okay, I can see what I can do for you. We could set up an appointment?" I think my mom was scared, not that her kid was damaged but she was scared I would go through what my brother had gone through. I'll leave that story for another day.
Back to my junior year; my grades slipped. I wasn't an A student by any means but I was failing. I've always had trouble with completing homework but doing great on tests. But this time it was all falling apart. I hated school and could never find the motivation to get out of bed. It didn't help that my small school was populated by conservatives and judgemental kids. I only had a few good friends and even then I wouldn't of called anyone my 'best friend'. I felt alone and like an outcast. In my religion class I was told that gays were wrong and would go to hell. In my art class it was structured and didn't allow any freedom. My favorite teachers left. The uniforms made me feel like a copy and not an individual. The weekly masses were in a hot chapel and I hated that the faith was forced down out throats. I constantly had acne and wasn't stick thin. I hated school.
Senior year was a little better because we had out lunch and could leave campus for a little. This is probably what kept me sane along with my drama and English teacher. I had a lot of heart to hearts with my favorite teacher, Mr. Sawyer. He understood me and felt like an older brother. Mrs. Gigstad encouraged my writing and was always very kind. She would read my short stories and understood what I meant when I described my emotions through the characters. These people and the little time we had to get off campus were my favorite part of senior year. When the school was getting stricter, I was myself unapologetically.
I think that's enough for a today little book, sorry it took me so long to pick you up again. Its the season for midterms.
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