When I was in school,
my classmates would often ask
what's the one thing I'm most
proud of in my life.
Thoughts ran through my head,
but I never gave an answer.
They'd brag about how they'd once saved
their little siblings from swallowing
dangerous things and
how they had their first kiss at age 11
or how they had toughen up
after some relative's death.
I was already dealing with major depression
but only because I couldn't love myself.
So I just stood there trying to figure out
what they wanted me to say,
a good come back that would measure up
to everyone's expectations
so that I wouldn't get bullied...again.
Four years later, when I was 18,
I stumbled upon a classmate of mine
from grade 8th.
She jokingly asked me if I had finally
found the right answer to that question.
''Was I proud of anything in my life?''
But I wasn't that little kid anymore,
I couldn't just fake a smile and
pretend that everything was fine.
I looked her in the eyes, with no regret,
and I immediately replied:
I tried to hang myself three days ago
but unfortunately, my best friend
walked in just in time.
Even though I wasn't glad she didn't let me die,
I realized I wouldn't want to do that to her.
So yes, I'm proud of myself for surviving
when I wanted it least.
And from that moment,
the news spread and I was proclaimed
''the hero of the school''.
For once in my life,
I became the center of attention
by hiding my pain.
