I am tired. And I don’t mean sleep, because I got plenty of that.  But yet, I am tired. No, tired is not the correct word. I am exhausted. I am exhausted from listening to teachers who are simply chasing a paycheck give twenty assignments a week, conforming my suspicion that they believe this work they give is worth more than my mental health. Day after retched day I listen to what these mad men have to say. I am exhausted from being called a slut because I dated an older boy. I am exhausted from being the slut, while he gets to be the player that bagged a younger girl as if he wasn’t in the exact same relationship as me, because it takes two for consent, but I am the only one seen as bad for having it! I am exhausted from sitting in history class, listening to my existence be a debate. I am exhausted from having to slowly reach down to my bag because I am sitting two seats from the boy who argues LGBT people shouldn’t be allowed to marry, and on my bag is a pride pin. I am exhausted from feeling unsafe in my history class with this hateful boy just seats away from me, because I am the b in LGBT. I am exhausted from breathing a little softer, as if trying to hide my presence, I am exhausted from removing all slang like “was poppin” “yurr” and “trash kid” from my vocabulary and replacing it with “Hey girly” “periodd” and “slay” all spoken in a pitch higher than my own, for the 45 minute class period in the small hope of conceling my gay-ness and avoiding a hate crime. I am exhausted from having to conceal my gayness in an attempt at feeling safe as if my gayness is not a part of me. As if I don’t breathe, speak, walk, and talk gay. I am exhausted from wondering how people could think my existence could ever be a debate. Because how could they. Because there is proof we are real. Because I am this proof. Because I am here, and becuase I am queer, and I know there is no way to change it. Because I have tried to change it. I have tried to force the thought of girls out of my mind, but I couldn’t help it. Because when I see a pretty girl walk past me in the hall I can’t stop my eyes quick enough before they trace her. And I can’t stop my heart from flipping in my chest. And I can't stop the butterflies in my stomach from having a party when she looks at me. And I couldn’t stop my mind from imaging her with me. So I know we are real, and I know it's not a choice.  I am exhausted from listening to people that don’t even have a uterus try to tell me what to do with mine. I am exhausted of boys lying to me that they like me because they want to pipe me, like my feelings do not matter. I am exhausted from feeling like my feelings do not matter. I am exhausted from falling for guys who want to hit me, quit me, and never hold my hand. I am exhausted from feeling like I am an object, a prize, a trophy to be chased. I am exhausted from feeling like my friends hate me because sometimes they act like they hate me. I am exhausted from doing all I can for my friends. I am exhausted from believing that there are some people who are meant to always give more than they will ever receive. I am exhausted from feeling like I am one of those people. I am not tired. I am exhausted.