Today in math class, I went to the bathroom. I didn’t pee or wash my face or anything of the sort. I just walked in and locked myself in a stall. I just stood there.
When you’re locked in a bathroom stall, you aren’t the fattest person out of everyone. When you’re locked in a bathroom stall, you can’t look at others and notice how ugly you are compared to them. When you’re locked in a bathroom stall, you can’t fail a test everyone else passed. When you’re locked in a bathroom stall, you can’t be left out of everything by your so-called friends, you can’t be yelled at by your father for eating too much and gaining too much weight, you can’t be made fun of for who you’re dating. You can’t run out of breath while everybody else keeps running. You can’t be the only one in your circle not on the volleyball team. You can’t be left out of the NJHS ceremony because even though you’re in it, you’re just not good enough to go. You can’t get yelled at by a teacher in a bathroom stall. You can’t be hated by your cousins in a bathroom stall. You can’t notice how poor you are in a bathroom stall. All that there is is you. And once you open the door, the real world comes around you like moths to a flame. Bathroom stalls are like padded cells that you choose to go to. You choose your own fate in a bathroom stall- you can stay and be sane, or leave and be surrounded by people better than you once again.