Hey you. I know we haven’t spoken in years, but that doesn’t mean I don’t think about you regularly.
Once upon a time, I knew what confidence was. I knew my value, and I was unashamed of it. But then, I met you. I was a freshman in high school, bright eyed and dreaming big. I was (and still am) desperate to please and over eager. I poured my whole soul into everything I did. I had unmatched passion. I made bold choices. By all accounts, I did everything right.
But for you, none of that mattered. I don’t know why. Maybe I intimidated you? Maybe I reminded you of someone who wronged you? Maybe we entered each others lives at the worst time? Or maybe you simply didn’t like me? I honestly don’t care. Because your job as an educator wasn’t to baby me or make me your favorite. It wasn’t your job to make me a star. I know that.
However, it also wasn’t your job to make me feel like nothing. To make me cry myself to sleep at night because I felt worthless. To pit my friends against me. To manipulate me into coming back again and again.
I have to admit, though, it wasn’t all your fault. I was warned. So many people, with only my best interest at heart, told me to stay away from you. They told me you did more harm than good. They told me you broke people. I didn’t listen. I let you have total control over me for two entire years, and even when I got out of your grasp, I didn’t escape it entirely. I still found myself looking for your approval when I knew it meant nothing. I still had your voice echoing in my head, doubting me.
Just a small town girl living in a lonely world. Millikin University. Tri Delta. Lover of all things Taylor Swift. Alexander Hamilton is my favorite founding father.
View all articles by Rachel Jackson
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