“Hey,” the girl said in front of me to her friend beside her, “Can you believe Jodi actually thinks she’ll be accepted into Yale? She’s too stupid to get in. She should just give up.” She was whispering when she said that, so I wouldn’t hear but I did. I heard everything she said. I ignore her and focus on the teacher. When the bell rings, my teacher said that she wanted to speak to me.
I walk up to her desk, and she immediately tells me what is on her mind. “Miss Dawson, I know you have been planning to go to Yale since your freshman year. The thing is your grades. You will not get into Yale with these grades. I advise you to reconsider your life choices. I know some excellent community colleges you could attend.” I shake my head and run out of the classroom. This is moronic, I think, why do we let some number dictate how smart we are?
When I arrive at my luxurious house, the first thing I notice is the smell. The smell is my favorite smell, chocolate cake. As I enter the kitchen, I notice my mom cooking my favorite meal, and I especially notice the chocolate cake in the oven. Something bad has happened. The only time my mom ever makes my favorite meal is when there is bad news. I go to my room and wait. As I’m waiting, I look at all the pictures of Yale I have. I am not giving up on my dream. I never will.
My mom calls me down for dinner. Everything starts off good. My mom and dad are talking about work, weather, politics, et cetera. Finally, they utter the four words that can ruin everything, “We need to talk”. I look up, and they take deep breaths. “Jodi,” my mom begins, “We’ve been talking to your teachers, and we believe that you should consider other colleges.” I swallow my food and say no; however, my mom is persistent, “But you have to. Yale isn’t a sure thing, especially with your grades.” I shake my head, “ Yale is my dream. If I want to go, I’ll go.” My dad slams his hand on the table, “Jodi Dawson, it won’t kill you to have other options. You are going to look at other colleges.” I get up without saying a word and go to my room. I won’t look into other colleges. I can’t.
The next few weeks of my life play out like the last. People talking about me behind my back. Teachers insisting I think about community college. My parents demanding I think about other colleges. At first I stay calm and ignore them, but soon everything changed. The words were sharper and more painful like I was being stabbed with knives and broken glass. My parents and teachers were even more demanding. I didn’t want to admit it, but I was starting to listen to them.
One day in class we had nothing to do. While everyone else was talking, I was reading. I was reading until people began talking about me. “Look at the pathetic loser trying to read.” “She should just go to community college.” “It’s a miracle she made it this far.” “It’s not like I’m worried. She is a nobody. A nothing.” Ring! Everyone rushes out the door without a second thought. My teacher begins to say something, but I ignore her and rush out.
Before I even enter the house, I already know what my parents will say. You should consider more colleges blah, blah, blah. We demand you consider more colleges blah, blah, blah. When I step inside, my mom is sitting in a chair while my dad paces back and forth. They tell me to sit and that they need to talk to me. I sit across from my mom. “Jodi, you know I love you, which is why I am telling you that you need to consider other colleges.” If you love me, I thought, why won’t you let me follow my dreams? “Why? Why can’t I go to Yale?” I ask. My dad explodes. “Because you’re stupid! Yale doesn’t accept idiots and that is exactly what you are! An idiot. Stupid. A moron. You are every synonym for the word stupid. You probably don’t know what a synonym is!” I bite the inside of my cheek until I taste blood. I slowly get up and run upstairs.
When I enter the bathroom, I close and lock the door. I try to clear my thoughts, but I can’t. Stupid. Idiot. Just give up. You are a nobody. My thoughts get louder and angrier. My heartbeat quickens and now all I hear is the boom of my heart and the hateful words. I hold my head. Nothing. Pathetic loser. Freak. Tears are rolling down my face. It won’t stop. Why won’t it stop! Idiot. Freak. Loser. My heart is pounding out of my chest. Just give up! Just give up! JUST GIVE UP! I grab a razor blade and make one slit across my left wrist. It isn’t working. The blood is rushing down my hand, but I still feel the pain from the words. I make two more slits. More blood. More painful words. Coward. Loser. Freak. Idiot. Why don’t you do everyone a favor and die?! As I’m about to cut deeply into my skin, I stop myself. Why, I think to myself, why do this? Isn’t this what they wanted? They wanted me to give up and that is exactly what I am doing. I put down the razor blade down and try to calm down. I take deep breaths and look at the small drops of blood on the floor. I stand over the sink and wash my wrist. I put a few Band-Aides over the cuts and leave the bathroom. I go to my room and pace back and forth. After hours of thinking and pacing, I finally think of an idea.
My parents are asleep. I should be asleep, but I have to do this. I get a video recorder and press play. I take a deep breath and began, “Nothing. I am nothing. Everyday and everywhere that is what I hear. Nothing. Loser. Freak. People say I will never amount to anything. They don’t think I hear them, but I do. I listen. I care, but I don’t say anything. At first, I wouldn’t believe them, but the words wouldn’t stop. ‘You’re stupid!’ ‘ You can’t do that you’re not smart enough!’ ‘Why do you even try!’ ‘Just give up!’ ‘You will NEVER succeed in life!’ Shut up! Just shut up!” I yell as if people were saying those things right here and right in my face. I continue, “You don’t know me! You never will! You can’t decide if I make it or not. I decide if I make it. I decide whether or not to give up. I believe I can! I know I’m smart enough and good enough!
The next time you see me I’ll be in a better place, and I will be a better me because I am somebody. I know that now. I’m no longer nobody. I’m somebody. Somebody that is going to change the world. Somebody who will believe in herself. Somebody you can’t demoralize. Somebody who is smart enough to not listen to you or anyone. Somebody who will make it because they believed in themselves. They know not to give up.” I press ‘stop’ and watch the video. I leave it and a note on the table. I go back upstairs and get the suitcase I already packed. When I get into my car, I look back at my home. “Goodbye,” I whisper. I turn the car on and back out of the driveway. I’m leaving everything. My family. My friends. Everyone who “cares” about me, but I didn’t care. I knew that if I looked behind me, I wouldn’t see what was in front of me. Which is why I never looked back.
(Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction)
