Snitch

I’ll never forget this label.

This label made me feel probably the most insecure out of all of them.

It made me think bad things about myself:

A bad friend.

A bad student.

A target for bullies.

A tattletale.

Someone who betrays.

Someone who has nothing better to do.

It’s funny, because now I can sit here and understand that none of these are true.

I look back on all the times I spoke up, and every time I got the courage to say something, it was for someone else.

Every time I said something that could have labeled me a snitch, I was trying to protect someone. Whether it be their physical body, or their feelings.

I never told on someone just because.

I can remember all of the times I didn’t say anything when It was just me, being picked on, made fun of, getting hurt.

But I always tried to make sure others were okay.

I never told out of spite or malice. I told out of love and concern.

I think that this is something that has bothered me for a very long time.

The fact that I felt like maybe I was a snitch.

And though I may just be trying to justify my actions by saying that I did it out of love, I believe it.

I don’t believe that label applies to me. Not anymore.

I’m done carrying that around.

I’m also done allowing my past to dictate who I think I am, and instead I’m going to listen to the whisper.

The still soft whisper telling me that I am loved, and that I’m going to be okay.

That I don’t have to let past labels, or labels in general, define me now.

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