Category : Poems

Sub Category : N/A

I feel like I have a phobia. 

I'm getting nervous about graduating to 7th grade. 

What if people make fun of how I look? 

What if people make fun of how I act? 

What if they make fun of everything about me? 

What if I never make any friends there? 

My graduation is next week on Tuesday. 

I'm excited, but nervous at the same time. 

I'm more of nervous. 

I don't know what to expect. 

I don't know what the kids will be like there. 

Will they be nice? 

Will they be mean?

Will they be... 

Both? 

I don't know how long I will have this phobia. 

If only my friends could go to the same school as me, 

But they're going to Johnson, and I'm not. 

If my friends went with me to my school on the first day, I wouldn't feel that nervous. 

My friends, usually, are always there for me. 

But now, 

They're not. 

I have one more week to make the best out of it. 

One part of my brain is telling me, 

"You can do it, Isabella." 

And the other part is telling me, 

"No, you can't do it." 

I don't know which one to follow. 

I don't know if I should feel nervous or not. 

I feel like soon enough, 

That both of the parts are going to get into a fight, 

And only half of my brain will be left if I don't do something about it. 

My mom hasn't told me what school I'm going to yet. 

All she really said about it was that it's in where I live. 

On the first days of school, 

I'm always afraid of embarrassing myself infront of other students. 

And afraid that they're going to make fun of me, 

Calling me, 

"Stupid, dumb, loser, loner." 

And many other names. 

There's no cure to my phobia. 

No cure. 

I don't know what will cure it, anyway.