There are a lot of things that teenagers go through; whether it be on a daily basis, or something just seems to magically pop up in our lives. Sometimes, fate has a different plan for us, rather than what we would like our days to look like.
For me, it was a simple thing to do: avoid planning. Others, not so simple. I guess when you grow up without a mommy or a daddy who loves you, things change, and you don't grow up like the rest of the kids at school.
But really, I am getting ahead of myself here. You don't even know my name. My parents named me Raven, after the dark bird that soars the skies at night. At least that's what my mom told me last time I asked her how I got named.
But I'm getting off of topic.
Teenagers go through a rough time; rich or not. Yeah, the richer, prettier girls and guys have more money to blow on clothes, so they are put at a higher status than those who have less money. But money doesn't stop puberty or raging hormones or social labels.
Money doesn't stop the gossip of "who's dating who" and "who wore what to the dance"; the minute details that people become obsessed with. And when people make fun of the kid who can't shower because his parents are druggies and used all their money for that instead of bills; who helps him? Who stands up for those who refuse to stand up for themselves?
I do.
I am 15, and I have attitude I am not afraid to use when needed. I don't have a perfect life, or perfect clothes, or a house. I live in a trailer for Christ's sake! But does that dampen my mood? Not one bit.
You see, it's not that I think of myself or of other people really. I imagine myself in other people's shoes, and act on the feeling i get in my gut; depending on the situation, how would I handle it? And then I would improvise from there.
No plans.
I would go to school, and I got in a lot of fights for standing up for what was right, and deciding what was wrong. i fought for the knowledge of knowing I did something right that day, and that I made a difference in some kids life; whether it be big or small, I got to help them out. I stood up for anyone.
Except myself.
I would go home after a fight at school, and my father would yell at me, even beat me for having done something as "reckless, and hell-bent as that", as he put it. And, because I fought often, my beatings were often too. He told me from the time of my first fight, when I was 9, that that was what he was going to do whenever I got in fights. And he followed through.
It didn't take long before my mom noticed the bruises on my chest, neck and back. Of course, she would know those kinds of bruises anywhere. She had them, too.
You want to know the worst part?
My dad didn't have to get drunk to want to beat me; he did it sober, and after a shitty day at work.
But that's not my point either.
It doesn't matter to me that I get beaten, because, how I see things, it only makes me stronger, and I build stamina against it. What matters to me is knowing I can do something right for a kid; that they know there's hope.
I was interviewed once for a school newspaper column. They asked me, "Why do you do the things you do?" And I had one answer: "To live on the edge."
That one sentence was posted in the column, and a week later my father was arrested for child/spousal abuse. Apparently, when you live on the edge so long, and don't mind the bruises or cuts anymore, other people still notice them. And they care enough to live on the edge for me.
And this was all because i stood up for what I believed in: I lived on the Edge.
