I didn't take my meds today.
Two days ago Caitlin Adams asked if I was bipolar because I was into her on Monday but by Friday I had figured out that she was too demanding.
But those words, that question... it seeped into my soul and tarnished my tho...
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I stood in front of the mirror for a longtime. I hated the white shirts they made you wear, it made my skin look darker than it actually was.
Don't get me wrong, I loved being half Nigerian. I wasn't ashamed of my roots nor did I try to suppress them. But there was a time and place to be black and my predominantly white high school was not it.
I was constantly torn into two different people, forced to pick which one would make other people more comfortable in which scenarios.
My Nigerian grandparents would make comments like "at least you're not full white" and I quickly learnt to question if I should be ashamed of the white half of me. Especially since I would often see how badly they treated my dad purely because he is 'full white.'
On the other hand, at Lakeland Academy it infuriated me to the back teeth hearing racist remarks all day. It wasn't like they targeted me, I don't even think half of them knew what they were racist. It was always the smallest comments that got to me the most. Those comments from people who preached how bad racism was.
The subtle ones, like when I scored a goal in soccer and my teammates commented how 'they knew I had some white in me.' Or how my geography teacher told me I didn't count as Nigerian because I wasn't 'full black' and didn't speak with an accent.
A girl I was interested in once told me I wasn't half African because I didn't wear the 'costume.' I guess not wearing a dansiki invalidated my Nigerian side somehow.
The truth being, I was the literal definition of feeling uncomfortable within my own skin for so many reasons.
Should I identify as black? Should I identify as white? What box do I tick?
Identity was about understanding who I am in the world, how others understand me and how I understand myself. I couldn't just choose.
It was like asking, what half of myself do I like better? When in fact, people have given me enough reasons to not like either.
So instead I just tried to blend. When I was with my moms half of the family I wore white or bright colours so my skin appeared darker. When I was around my school friends I wore dark or dull colours to look lighter. The school shirt however threw everything off.
"You ready?" Dad asked from my doorway, I could see his eyes assessing the mess in my room but thankfully he didn't embarrass me by commenting on it.
My vision fleeted over to the anti-anxiety pills on the counter. It would numb that whirling pit of darkness in my stomach. I wouldn't have to worry about my race, my bipolar, kissing Blossom last night.
But I'd be high, high.
Higher than the drones in space.
Too high to function and go unnoticed.
"Arlo?" Dad interrupted my thoughts.
"What colour does this school shirt make me look?" I asked, looking at my skin in the mirror again.
"Dunno? Purple?" He replied with a yawn, he ran his fingers through his curly hair.
"Purple!" I exclaimed loudly, looking at my skin again. I didn't anticipate that answer. My dad started laughing.
"What the fuck kind of question is that Arlo? Grab your bag and hurry up you're gonna be late."
I don't know why I expected a serious answer from him.
My dad dropped me off at school in my car and then drove it back with him which really annoyed me but there wasn't much I could do about it since I trashed his.
"Daddy drive you to school today Arlo?" Kimberly giggled, I smiled at her.
"Sorry, did you say daddy? I heard my name." She laughed and tossed her hair back.
"You gotta stop flirting Arlo, it's going to land you in trouble one day."
"But I'm so hot." I shimmed my hips and teased my shirt up seductively. She laughed more and I spun around, dancing to no music. "Catch you later beautiful."
"Hey Arlo."
"Hey, looking good Sophie."
"Hi Arlo"
"Sup, Freddie did you do something with your hair? It looks fucking hot."
"Morning Arlo."
"Gemma, I had naughty dreams about you last night. We should go out sometime."
"Arlo Peers!" My shoulders shuddered at the sound of Principal Moores voice. He hated me, it was obvious. "You're failing six of your classes."
"I know, you should really hire better teachers."
"Arlo!" He took his glasses off and cleaned them, not looking amused. "I've scheduled you in for a meeting with the guidance Councillor during your first period." I rolled my eyes at him, great.
