Go Ahead, Cry.

Swallow Peter Pan Collar Dress: Forever21.

Red Cardigan: Gaberiel Brother's.
Tights: JcPenny's.

Black Satin Heels: Thrifted.

I believe in crying. Sometimes I cry even when I'm not sad. It's a release of emotions for me and by crying it shows that I am all but human. Sometimes I cry by myself in the quiet of my bedroom at night, or driving alone in my car with the music turned high. However, today I embarrassingly began to cry at school in the middle of my English class. Here's why.

Currently in my Advanced English class we're creating an application essay to send to a college of our choice for admission. Although I have no intention of attending, I decided to apply to The Fashion Institute of Technology in New York just for kicks and giggles. The prompt for the essay is, " what makes you a perfect candidate for FIT?" Pretty vague, no? I was stumped all this past weekend over thinking about how I could answer that question. My teacher is always lecturing us about not creating the same essay an admissions rep has read over a hundred times, so I was distressing on writing something original.

However, I did finally manage to think of something to write about and it was right in front of my face. It's the easiest and most natural topic for me to write my essay about and show people who I am. I've written about it many times on this blog and each time I write about it, I cry. My journey of becoming who I am today.

In English class we were all sharing our ideas on our individual essays and I volunteered to go. I just started talking about my insecurities and self-loathing as a young pre-teen. About my hopelessness of ever feeling beautiful. Of my jealousy of every girl because she was more beautiful than I. My longing for breaking out of my shell, but the fear of judgement that held me back. I just kept talking and talking and I don't know quite what came over me. My voice wavered and I felt the unexpected tears steam out of my eyes in hot rivets down my face. As I finished my whole class and teacher sat in silence staring at me as I sat there embarrassed at my sudden outburst of passion and emotion.

But their reaction wasn't what I thought it would be. Instead of the awkward, pathetic, loneliness I usually feel they all started clapping for me and gave me praises of awe. My teacher, whom I can nicely say comes off as cold-hearted and unfeeling sometimes, was completely moved by my story. She told me if I wrote about what I had just said, I would get into the college and get any job in the fashion industry. At that moment,I felt proud of myself even though the tears of shame were still glassy on my face. To be praised for my story and told that I was extraordinary was one of the most wonderful feelings I've ever felt...

As I left the classroom today with a wadded up tissue in my hand still sniffling, my English teacher actually gave me a smile and I could see the admiration in her eyes. It made me feel proud to be who I am for once.
 Finally proud.

With much love, Lauren.