I wake up, do some work, and now go to bed. That was the usual occurrence before understanding that at this time in my life, I co-exist with a global pandemic. Yet, nothing much has changed, and the only change is that it’s from home. Home is where I have all the time to myself. To practice self-care, have a good sleep schedule, eat correctly, and exercise basic needs that I neglected before because now I have the time to pace myself instead of working on other people’s time. Of my generation, I find myself an average teen, the same as others. I was worried about what might come from this pandemic, worried for my friends as well as a family that has compromised immune systems. I wake up every day wondering if healthy people understand that stockpiling and buying up everything think it’s good when the older generation lives from paycheck to paycheck in this economy. Then I remember that most adults read at the level of an 8th grader. The repeated fight in the political arena between republicans and democrats over an issue that could affect millions upon millions of people being treated more as a ploy to get re-elected by the usage of the media to coerce millions to think in a specific manner, which isn’t for themselves. The repetition is the same old song, and it gets boring, so I decided against watching the news and like researching on my own time. Rather than the adults at my home who are sucked into it, they think they’re world-class scientists after being no more than slightly educated on the topic off of Facebook. Yes, Facebook. It’s at this point in my life that I realized the tables have turned. Teenagers are no longer the simple ones, but rather it’s the older generation that believes coronavirus is a government ploy meant to control the population. “Yeah, grandma, don’t believe everything on Facebook,” is a go-to now. Watching my little sister play with toys at home as nothing out of the norm for her.

I’m doing the same, and what I mean is practicing essential hand-washing and social distancing. Social distancing is the normalcy for me because I don’t go out much, though at least once a week. That’s the part of the routine I miss; I miss cheeseburgers and Starbucks. I think about it at least three times a day as I eat spaghetti for the 7th time in the two weeks I’ve stayed home. Though luckily for me I love pasta. I conformed immediately to online schooling, and yet am still struggling to juggle college and high school work as usual. Between the assignments and reading as well as trying to keep my friendships in check, it’s a lot. I still manage with a few things slightly slipping from my plate. I’m still a kid learning to be an adult; I want that Animal Crossing Nintendo Switch game as much as I want to take pride in knowing I’m responsible for doing my work. My emotional needs are met surprisingly at the minimum with the stay at my house for what is going onto a month now, and I’m better. Still not there at the regular rate of which every person works at, and I wonder what would’ve happened to me if I had just thrown in the towel earlier on, I wouldn’t be able to laugh at memes or look at twitter. It’s the relatively common things in life that push me forward. As I woke up, I did some work, and later on, I will hopefully go to bed.

They were born March 1st, 2003 around 8:30 in the morning. They would’ve been born earlier if there was even a doctor ready for their birth. Though it makes them think what if they had been born earlier? Would they have been different? When they were around two, there came their sister. They despised their sister extremely, to the point that they refused to acknowledge them as their sister, and would never let their sister play with their toys. Though they did love their step father at the time. He wasn’t narcissistic, but gentle and funny. He always carried them wherever. He was a strong tall black six foot man. Though it was up until he was placed in jail for plenty of charges relating to domestic abuse that their trust in people is zero to none, though that isn’t the major factor of them losing trust for others. Moreover a factor into tens of hundreds of things that have happened to them. They spent the first years of their life so poor, that their mom wasn’t able to eat. They distinctly remember being around 6 or 7, possibly Pre-K or Kindergarten. They were sitting in a chair, eating what was a little meal that was maybe 97 cents. It was enough and they were happy. Then they remember looking up and seeing their mom look so tired. Like she hadn’t eaten in so long, they never looked anywhere else than down so looking in front of themselves was a new thing. It broke something in them that still makes them cry to this day, they still cry every time they remember her face. They were so confused and they asked her if she wanted some. She told them no and they would later watch as she ate the scraps of what they hadn’t eaten. It sounds like the start of a sad boring story about how a person managed to get out of that red, sad area before becoming the person they are today. Well sort of, they don’t know yet because they don’t even know the end of their own story.

They went through plenty worse that they can’t even bare to mention without spending another ten minutes crying. They remember making their family happy with the little jokes they cracked. The family would smile faintly, a small curve of their lips as they looked at them. They guess that triggered them into taking up learning how to be a comedian, though not exactly in that manner.

For a good portion of their life they were bullied over their skin color, gender, sexual orientation, and amongst other things that were out of their control. They remember being made fun of in elementary school over not having a dad, then slowly for being so white that they would never be accepted as hispanic or latina and looking like a ‘girl and boy.’ They were ridiculed over what they later learned was being androgynous, as well as their weight was a new point bullies went out of their way to make fun of.

Then they came into Domingo Trevino Middle School only to be bullied everyday for ‘looking gay.’ They spent a good portion of their life more severely depressed than they are now. They couldn’t sit anywhere without kids pointing out their weight or looks. They felt relieved when they were moved into classes with all the kids who were considered smart. Those kids didn’t bully them at all and actually understood them. To think that it was all because they got fed up and went to get their schedule changed early in 7th grade. A simple schedule change caused them to meet their best friends. They met Crystal who is in Jimmy Carter High School with them too. Alongside five others, but mainly Emiliano and Ryan, who they thank for stopping the bullies from bullying them any further. Through there was an instance that they regret not telling their friends, which was in 8th grade. A guy who had regularly bullied them before had managed to catch them alone and beat them up. They had bruises on their arms mostly from trying to defend themselves. They have never told their mom either.

Now that they’re in high school, there was a huge change. Being a freshman was the worst and was the beginning of their depression making them just feel empty for the first time. They were neither happy nor sad. They were somewhere lost in their emotionless state, smiling when they felt they needed to, due to social cues or crying. Sadness was the only feeling of emotion that struck several times. Though they knew they were having fun they just couldn’t truly feel it in their bones nor in their heart, at least in their toes. Though their body image was slowly changing from bad to better. Sooner into sophomore year they felt some happiness, they had been in the middle for so long that it confused them when they felt happy. They smiled when they felt happy and laughed too. Sure to have fun and suppress any sadness they felt. They loved their courses and loved their friends in the beginning of sophomore year. They felt like smiling and they felt like making others happy. Then of course good things only last so long. Friends of one of the many friend groups they were with made threats to others. Sure enough they did not choose the friend group that made the threats as when called on. Though they didn’t know at the time that that group was making fun of their friends so of course they took that groups word for it. Then it just went from there, people took sides, and plenty took to making jabs at them. “They’re so much better than you.” or “I hate your jokes, you’re so not funny.” Of course it didn’t affect them, but it made them think how those very people who expressed an ounce of kindness towards them. Stopped when the likability or popularity of them dropped. So they stopped trying, and just gave into not caring. Later into the end of the school year they couldn’t even bear to feel anything, They were so emotionally exhausted. Any feeling they just couldn’t feel or express at all. Then came summer, their mom took them to a psychiatrist over a major breakdown they had in the end of sophomore year over what they came to know as a PTSD episode from an extremely traumatic experience in their life, and four other disorders. Though those very disorders don’t make them or dictate their life and explaining their hardships somehow lifted the weight off their shoulders. As a junior in high school, they realize that they have to provide for their family regardless of how unprivileged, or privileged to be here in the United States and to be white passing. They are a real person with hardships that can hold them back, but don’t make them, them.