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“Education is not the filling of a pail, but the lighting of a fire.” — William Butler Yeats Student Monologues
If You Only Knew
I am tired of these young boys coming up to me, trying to holla with their fresh lines. The answer to all is, "My name is Roxanne and, no, you can't have my number." Now, it's not that I'm stuck up or anything, or that I like older men. It's just that I'm tired. I'm tired of everything. How old do I sound saying that? You would think I'm an old lady that's lived life already, huh? You wouldn't guess I'm only seventeen. But I don't feel seventeen. Most of my friends, they aren't even on my level and I guess that is why I often drift apart from them.
At school I'm a good student, yeah, I get good grades. But I can remember when I started liking school back in the fifth grade, when my teacher Mrs. Fisher brought out something in me that I knew I had in me but didn't let out yet. She asked the class to write poems about ourselves. Mine was called, "Simply Me." I still have that poem too. Ever since then, my love for writing has grown and that love made me want to finish school and become a famous writer one day, like Emily Dickinson or Langston Hughes or somebody.
But lately at school I just haven't been feeling like myself. The year that's supposed to be the best I'm considering being my worst. It's the people around me that make me mad. Everyone and everything makes me mad. You think just because I go to school everyday with a fake smile on my face and nice clothes on that everything is all good. When really everything is not all good. But that is this materialistic world, isn't it? You know, sometimes when I'm walking down these halls I feel like screaming at the top of my lungs and crying. But I don't want to hear anybody say, "Roxanne, baby girl, its going to be ok!" Alright. Well, if it's going to be ok, it's still not ok. So don't preach to me, because I just don't want to hear it. But it's hard, it's so hard to get rid of this pain. See, I don't want to cry, I try not to cry but I just can't help it. I won't cry in front of ya'll because I don't want nobody feeling sorry for me.
The other day I went home so excited because I had just won a poetry slam, first place too. But when I go home, I go home to silence, and when I get there to tell my mother how I did she doesn't even listen, doesn't even care. She never did and when she pretends it makes it worst. She is the big part of why I hurt. It's not about the boys or the people. It's her. And because I do such a good job about hiding what's wrong, no one notices. "I wish I were you Roxy, you're so pretty Roxy, your mom gives you anything you want Roxy." Oh yeah, not everything. My mommy my mommy, my mom, the mother, her, that woman. The root of it all. I can't even remember a time when she held me or played with me. Never! I would want a hug from her before that new car she bought me. I try to talk to her but she doesn't seem to understand. "I'm not changing for no one," she says. "This is me and you're going to have to live with it," she says. Why? What is that suppose to mean? Cry.
Now looking down at my wrist and seeing the scars of the day that I, in a different way, wanted to let go of this. But I was too scared. I don't have the guts to kill myself. I remember sitting there in my room, though, crying with my pen and notebook ready to cut myself until...a single teardrop hit the paper and it smeared, but only to a certain extent. That made me think. It made me think that one day this pain will be gone and I shouldn't give no one the satisfaction of seeing me fall. Because, like that teardrop, one day this problem will go away. And besides my book is not finished yet.
Amarra
He was my boyfriend, but more than that he was my best friend. We were friends before we started going out, and I was always happy with him. I don't know why I was always so protective of him, keeping him away from bad people and trifling girls. Everyone thought I liked him, and I guess deep down I did. But I never told anyone. No, not until he told me how he felt. He was my first...everything.
I never had the best luck with relationships. I thought I would never find the one I was looking for. It's hard to think that in this whole wide world there's only one person that's right for you. Do you know how many people there are in the world? Well, if you hadn't noticed, there's a lot. But it's just that loneliness has always been a friend of mine. But with friends like that, who'd need enemies? It haunted me like a shadow lurking in the darkness. I finally thought my pain would come to an end when I met him. He was different than the other guys I knew. He didn't like to play mind games like most guys. I loved that about him. He was straight up with me. He told me things he never told anyone and I did the same. I knew as well as he knew that things would stay between him and me. The secrets he told me will never be sold. We always had fun when we were together, no matter what we were doing.
I remember when we first kissed. It was summer, he was walking me home. It was such a nice day, but all of a sudden it started raining. We ran to my house, but about a block away we stopped 'cuz I got tired. We walked the rest of the way, but before we got to my house he grabbed my face and he leaned in and he kissed me. I looked at him and I asked him what was it for and he told me. I'll never forget what he said to me. He told me, "Amarra, I've liked you for a long time." I couldn't believe it. I was stunned. I told him I felt the same and we started going out that same day. He looked so cute with his wet hair all in his face. I'll never forget that day as long as I live. He told me he loved me. And oh boy did he take good care of me. I never asked him for anything but he always knew what I wanted. I gave him all I could. Doing things he liked, you know, the cooking. Boy did he like it when I cooked for him. But I loved it when he cooked for me too. My god could that boy cook. He was the best thing that ever happened to me.
I remember one time we got into an argument. I don't even remember why, I just remember it was his fault 'cuz he did something. But he never yelled at me and he never swore at me. He left me there with my words in my mouth and came back like an hour later with a dozen white roses and a card that said, "Let me make it up with love." He always knew that song would save his ass. Damn ATL.
I thought my shadow was gone but it was only on vacation. 'Cuz the day came when he told me I changed. And I guess in a sense he was right. I was spoiled by a good man, and I guess I started taking him for granted. He told me we could still be friends but, let's face it, as soon as you cross that line from friends to lovers there's no going back. Things will never be the same between him and me. It's true what they say, you don't realize what you have until it's gone. Why'd he have to say goodbye? I don't understand where we went wrong. I miss him like crazy.... I'd give anything to have my friend back.
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