When I was in 9th grade,

I stared a bottle of pills.

Thoughts of popping the cap

and swallowing them all,

would slowly infiltrate my brain—

But why?

I told myself, everything I did

was never going to be

Enough

I told myself, everything I am

was never going to be

Enough

In 7th grade, I helped raise

over a thousand dollars for a school

in Costa Rica

In 7th grade, I tried to be a rock for my friend going through anxiety, major depressive disorder, cutting, and suicidal thoughts

In 7th grade, I was accepted into

National Junior Honors Society and was later elected Vice President

In 7th grade, I told the counselors that my friend was suicidal so he could get help

Since he refused

In 8th grade, I told the counselors that my friend was suicidal so she could get help since she refused

In 8th grade, I told a friend of a friend who was suicidal, so that the friend could tell her mom and get her help

In 8th grade, I walked out in order to protest the Congress's inability to make a stricter gun control legislation

In 8th grade, I tried to be a rock for my same friend, except this time she tried to kill herself...

twice.

In 8th grade, I was one of four chosen

to speak at 8th grade graduation.

Yet, none of this was enough.

I told myself,

I could have raised two thousand.

I could have been there for her more.

I could have been president.

I could have told him what I was doing, and I could have been there for him more after that.

I could have took her down to the office with me.

I could have told her parents myself.

I could have gotten more people to walk out.

I could have stopped myself from slowly being a rock less and less, and I could have checked up on her more.

I could have written a better speech.

But, I didn't.

But if I think, I mean really think,

I could only raise what people would donate.

I could only be there for her so much with her isolation, or with my stress.

I chose to run for Vice President, I didn't want to run against my friend.

He told me that if I did anything, he would do something, and I was scared he'd hate me.

You emailed the counselors, and she was aware.

It was probably easier for them to hear it from someone they knew.

It was spontaneous, there wasn't any planning.

You were spreading yourself too thin already, and she seemed to stop depending on you.

You wrote the speech you had in a day, and you still got chosen.

When I was in 9th grade,

I stared a bottle of pills.

Thoughts of popping the cap

and swallowing them all,

would slowly infiltrate my brain—

But instead, I put them in the medicine cabinet, and walked away.

I told myself, everything I did

was going to be

Enough

I told myself, everything I am

was going to be

Enough

Maybe, maybe I am enough.