Who am I?

The seventeen year old,

who walks all over town,

becuase she can't drive.

I work at least twenty hours a week,

Just to pay for AP classes. 

To some, I'm simply that. 

A hardworker.

To others, 

I am a survivor.

Of pain, 

of my past. 

To some, 

I am an advocate. 

I share my story

To raise awareness,

just to help others.

Explaining to the shy new kid

That I have been to thirteen schools,

So he isn't alone.

Looking at students

Who have longs sleeves,

Constantly pulling them down,

Or fixing their bracelets.

I let them know,

I am here. 

I have been there before.

I am not my past,

My past has changed me.

It is why I am a mental health advocate.

My past is why I am a hardworker.

My past made me want to major in psychology.

Yet, to some, I am simply a girl they see in school.

I am the sarcastic kid.

I am the person who's locker is next to theirs.

Who I am,

Is simply a matter of perspective. 

How people see me, 

depends on how they want to see who I am,

so who I am to myself, doesn't matter.