I rewrote the entire column. I knew I was unhappy with the last one I posted. So... while the beginning is the same, the ending is radically different. I hope you guys like this one better.

“I’m sick of the human race,” I said one day to my friend Grace as we were leaving Orchestra to go to second hour.

“Ohhh... why?” she inquired. The idea of being sick of anyone was a foreign one to her.

“Because of the way they are, and the fact that they’ll never change themselves to be better people.” In just that one sentence lies the inspiration for an entire column.

I’m a walking contradiction. A total hypocrite. Here I have written several columns during the year saying accept yourself and others as they are, don’t change yourself for anybody but you, and out loud I am saying I’m sick of an entire species for doing just that. Then I realized- I’m sick of them because most of them have been able to do that, and I’m jealous because I haven’t.

When I write, I write my ideals, my beliefs. I write what I want in my own life... like if I keep writing it, it will come true. I’ve wanted to be accepted, I’ve wanted to be heard, I’ve wanted to be happy. And those things have felt forever out of my reach.

After the first issue of the Magnet came out, I realized what a large audience could be reached. People would read the column. Everyone reads the opinion pages, just to see if they’ve been mentioned in the polls and to get a laugh out of a possible funny (or just badly written) column. I would be heard and be able to help people at the same time, as well as vent some general frustrations with the school population. But as time went on, and the more columns I wrote, I began to feel worse and worse about what had been written down. It made me feel good to know that some people read them, but I wanted so much more. I wanted even more people to read it, and be affected by what it said. I began to think it was a waste of time and ink. My messages were lost on the minds of OHS students. I should have let someone funny and/or well-liked have the space I took up.

But every so often, I would remember what it felt like after I had written that first column. Like I had actually achieved something. So I kept trying, just so I could feel that feeling one more time.

Guy de Maupassant, a famous French short story writer during the late 19th century, said “Black words on a white page are the soul laid bare.” I continually laid my soul out this year, hoping I would reach someone. And as I walk away this year, leaving the building as a student for one last time, I believe I can feel confident that I did reach someone. That I did inspire someone to be a better person. And even if it’s only one person, I’m alright with that. One person is still someone. And I’ll always remember that, even if that one person was only myself.

And in the end, though I haven’t achieved everything I wanted, I am one step closer to who I want to be. As time goes on maybe I will eventually be able to accept myself as I am. One step at a time.