My friends are complete oddballs. With them, there is no in between. But they all share similar struggles. Many of them deal with anxiety, depression, insomnia or all three.
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Just two hours away, teens like myself are growing up in a county with one of the lowest life expectancies in the U.S.
In Oakland, California, there is only one teen shelter specifically designed for sexually trafficked girls. It’s called Nika’s Place.
My cousins pushed me into closets and shut the doors, called me countless names, and even sucked up my last baby tooth in the vacuum cleaner.
“There was a lot of shock and a lot of fear. Shock because I never thought that it would happen to me. And fear because I knew how I was going to be treated.”
I spent the first eight or so years of my life oblivious of my autism label. My parents broke the news to me in fourth grade. And when they told me, I started crying.
13 students from Oxford High School worked with administrators to write and record personal stories and play them over the morning announcements.
Many adults still get nervous when it comes to discussing or sharing media that depicts young people taking their lives because they’re afraid they’ll get inspired to copycat. That phenomenon even has a name, the Werther effect.
I want my peers to realize that what keeps health care affordable for people like me is for those with fewer medical needs to sign up for insurance.