The Ivory Tower

When I first started Broughton High school in 2012, I was cautiously optimistic. My dad had just died the summer before, so it was an interesting time for me to say the least.

I went to private school for seventh and eighth grade, and I guess I wanted a change from the closed off world of fancy things and materialism.

Little did I know, I’d be swapping one bubble for a new one.

My first class freshman year was Common Core 1 with Mrs. Stewart. I remember this because I think about how nice and warm she was when the whole class was completely dysfunctional and in a constant state of disarray.

Everyday, there would be a new behavioral issue or some non-class related thing she had to deal with.

Still, Mrs. Stewart came in prepared each day to teach and with a seemingly inexplicable dose of enthusiasm.

I, being the quiet one who mostly listens and only speaks when called- remember feeling acutely aware of the weird social dichotomy at Broughton. You had kids driving G-Wagons and new luxury cars, while others showed up to school in their pajamas and waited on the bus to get there. I always had a major issue waking up at 7:25. I just wonder how much tougher it would be waking up at 5:30 to go to a place like I experienced.

To be clear, I don’t hate Broughton. I don’t. I don’t hate anyone or anything except Duke.

Anyways, fast forward to sophomore year and a whole other can of worms was opened for me in the area of girls and gossip. Now, again, I’m not one to say anything or talk behind anyone’s back. I remember feeling acutely aware of how I felt.

For instance, I saw this one girl who I wanted to go out with and who happened to be volunteering at the same elementary school I was with the YMCA. I sent her a text. A few hours later, I go on social media and see one of her friends tweet,” praying for you and your hard decision today.” Instantly, I knew she was referring to me.

Although, to be quite honest, I’m glad she never said yes.

The day after, I was sitting in class and the tweeter and her friend have the audacity to ask me for my vote on the student council.

I simply say I don’t feel like voting and put my head on my desk.

Sorry, but I don’t think you won that election, and I’m glad you didn’t. High school elections are a joke anyways. It’s merely a popularity contest and something someone can put on a transcript to impress colleges.

Anyways, fast forward to junior year and I’ve had enough of it. I’m anxious, depressed, and at my wits end. I tell people I have a headache. I have no headache. I simply don’t want to go back in that toxic environment.

I medically withdraw.

I spent two years in deep depression and hurt after I left Broughton. I even contemplated suicide.

I would later earn a GED and spend three semesters at Wake Tech.

However, I am so thankful I’m still here and have the opportunity to study at the school of my dreams.

Are you going through something or need someone to talk to?

Reach out!

Freshman year me.

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