Choices, there are so many you can make. You always have a choice.

Choices, there are so many you can make. You always have a choice. You can put up and shut up, take what you get. Or you can fight for what you believe in, even if you know you shouldn’t, if you know it’s not your place, if you know you’re wrong. It is always our first nature to defend ourselves. It is always your first nature to fight, and then consequences possibly make them worse. The thing is though consequences aren’t always bad, some can even be good. I have had my share of both good …and bad. How I got through them was only with a choice, some bad consequences I am still battling, some good were only sweet while they lasted.

I defended myself even though I was wrong, I knew it, I took actions into my own hands, and I faced the consequences. What for though? I thought I was a strong person I thought by doing what I did I made myself stronger, I thought I would be on top, I thought well what is another referral going to do to me? I still remember that day the day that I made the worst choice of my life. I still think about it, I dream about it, and I know what I said and did. I know I still have secrets buried deep within the walls of my skin. I know some are better left untouched. I still know that some of the things I did and the true story behind will never come out, I won’t let them. My worst choice was somewhat like this. The steely gleam of the door knob was in front of me, waist high and with an ominous chill to the touch. I grasped the knob with my finger tips and let it slid from my grip. I was in a classroom tardy, yes but there. I was feeling confident that I would be in no trouble at all with the purple pass in my hand. The teacher glowered at me and said,” You’re tardy again!” I said calmly, “I have a pass.” With almost a mocking face she said “No you don’t.” Feeling annoyed now I said in just the same way, “Yes I do.” I flicked the pass rudely at her. “This pass was for homeroom.” She said with a smile. “Well it wasn’t much use was it if the bell for homeroom rang while I was still in the office?” I ranted. From then on it was a shouting match.

By V. D., a middle school student