For Once in My Life

I am stuck in the webs of my insecurities. When I look around, I can feel eyes on me, watching my every movement. Why do I feel this way? Well, neither am I a deformed child, nor missing an arm or a leg. My problem is more of a psychological one; I’m a stutterer. I simply cannot speak a full sentence without stopping at least once or twice which people find annoying. My name is Debra, and stuttering is my biggest insecurity. Alice, my one and only friend, is the reason I can go to school without having to think about the biggest bully, Jasmine.

Speaking publicly is my goal for my last high school year. I don’t know if that’s possible, but I’m working hard on it. When the teacher asked who wanted to write and present the graduation speech, my friend suggested me, causing a few people to snicker. I tried to ignore those whispers and snickers that terrify me. As I headed to my teacher’s desk, my heart beat a million times per second. She greets me with a smile, but I spot Jasmine in the corner of the room. “Calm down.” I whisper to myself. My teacher accepts me and encourages me, making me feel hopeful. However, when I returned to class, I found Jasmine waiting for me. “Whoa, a stutterer as a public speaker? What a joke!” This one sentence shattered my dreams in a matter of seconds. When my mother asked me: “what’s wrong, sweetie?” I ended up bursting into tears while telling her what happened. “You know,” she said, “when people tend to bully, they are hiding their insecurities. You were born a stutterer, but you are not a bully, and that’s the thing you should be most thankful for. You were born special; embrace your differences. Life is filled with bullies, so raise our head, look them in the eye, and say ‘I can do it.’” That was probably the moment I realised that my mom is right. I wiped my tears. I can do it- no, I will do it.

I walked up the stage wearing my graduation gown and trying my best to walk steadily. I raised my head, faced the crowd, and spoke to my heart’s content. In my entire seventeen years of living, I was silent, but that was the day I shone; where I could be myself. While speaking, I can swear that for a moment, I forgot I’m a stutterer