Hey, guys! This is to everyone who struggles with self-esteem or other issues like it, but never voices them, because you feel others have it worse. Trust me, even though others have it worse, your feelings still matter just as much as them. I know it firsthand. A failure. That’s all I was. That’s all I am. A useless, no good, waste of space. I lowered my head into my arms, letting my feelings finally release themselves, sick of hiding them. Sick of pretending I didn’t matter. But maybe that's what I was. A useless, no good, waste of space. Useless. We had just finished our musical tryouts, and our theater teacher was about to post them! I headed down before school to see what I got, but then the bell rang and I hurried up to my first class. It was okay. I would see it soon. I really hoped I would get a part! I never had been good enough to get a speaking part, but maybe this year would be different. I impatiently waited throughout the school day, and when the bell rang, I ran down to see what I got. I scanned for my name amidst crowds of others. I couldn't find it! But then I saw it. Ensemble. I was ensemble. After I had spend HOURS working on the songs, HOURS memorizing the lines. I worked so hard. For ensemble. To be forgotten in the background. I nearly ran to my carpool group, looking down. Thinking. I was never good enough. Why would anyone want to be friends with someone as bad at everything as me? I was a complete failure. Nothing else. That was the story of my life. I came to my carpool, and with a fake smile, told them I was so excited for the play, even though I was so hurt and angry inside. It didn't matter anyway. I danced my heart out. It was Nutcracker auditions for my ballet school. I had never got in before, even though I tried hard every time. But this time I put in something extra. I did the combinations with everyone else, even when I wasn't going, tried to show musicality, everything I could. If I ever had a shot at this, this would be the time. The once chance I would have. True, I didn't get in when it there were thirty six of us, and thirty got in, but that was because I was super tall. Now, there were more girls my height. I had a chance. "Thank you for participating in Nutcracker auditions! Results will come out tonight at 8:00PM!" That was what the paper they gave up read. I held it in my hand as I waited by the computer for it to turn 8:00. My family crowded around me, anxious to see if I got on. I clicked on the website, then read through the list of names. As I double-checked, my throat clenched and I felt my stomach drop. I didn't get in. I could see my family looking at each other. "Here, I'll go search for your name." My dad offered, holding out his hand. "My name isn't on here, okay?!" I burst, tired and angry and upset. Again. I had been trying for so long. But I suppressed the tears. Tears were weak. I was fine. Why would I need to act like a stupid baby because I didn't get in the Nutcracker? I was just worthless. It was fine. I was used to this. I went and took a shower, trying, but not quite succeeding to wash away all memories of the day I wasted. Trying out for the choir solo! I had practiced for the solo, "Think of Me," from the Phantom of the Opera Medley, for forever! I knew I could do it. Last year I had danced to that song for my ballet recital. I knew it by heart. As the class period ticked by, I glanced at the clock more and more often, starting to feel the familiar clenching feeling as there showed five minutes left to the end of class. "Oh! Weren't we going to do solo auditions today?" My choir teacher asked, frowning. "I'm so sorry. We can do them next time." The feeling lessened a bit more. Maybe I could still do it. "Wait, why don't we just come after school today to do it?" My friend suggested. My stomach clenched again. If he agreed, I wouldn't be able to try out. I had ballet right after school, and couldn't wait long enough for auditions. "That's a great idea!" My choir teacher said, and I bit my lip. It's okay. I never would have gotten that solo anyway. I'm a terrible singer. Maybe people were just too nice to tell me. I submitted my poem to a contest. I spent days working on it, making sure every little detail was perfect. Finally, when I felt sure it was ready, I submitted it. I had looked at past poems, and mine was superior. I knew that I could do very well at least. Days passed. Then weeks. Then months. Until the date when the winners would be announced had come and gone, with nothing. I was a failure. I couldn't even write a stupid poem. Countless times passed where I failed, failed, failed. All failures. Never successes. Slowly my self-esteem began to slip away, drop by drop, until I had almost nothing left... And I would never tell anyone about my failures, or complain, or pout, or whine. Because it was stupid. It wasn't important. I just was never good enough for anyone.
Maybe it was because I was so ugly. Maybe it was because my personality was annoying. And my friends had it so much worse than I did. They had divorced parents, bad grades, depression, anxiety, ADHD, ADD, PSTD, insomnia, or were just ticked off by life in general. Compared to them, my problems were stupid. I had none of those things. How dare I be stupid, how dare I be weak enough to complain about my wonderful life? Because my life WAS wonderful, compared to my friends. So I shouldn't complain at all. So I didn't. I helped my friends through disappointments, sadness, depression, and things like that, not saying a word as my self-esteem slowly slipped down lower and lower, until I had nothing left. So one day, music blasting in one ear, my self esteem completely gone and vanished, my emotions swirling from being locked up deep inside... I let them out. In my own way. I began writing, and it grew easier to write as I kept going. Writing my sadness and hurt into my characters. It was my only outlet. One day, I finally realized what was going on. And I wrote what you're reading right now.
