Ten minutes left in class, and it felt like the room was caving in, and every fiber of my body was disintegrating into thin air. I kept scratching my sweaty palms, hoping that the clock would move at a rapid pace and I can get out of this class without the professor knowing that I didn’t complete last night’s homework. She’s supposed to ask each person to recite one fact from the textbook we were supposed to read. I had every intention of reading it, but the Knicks-Lakers game last night was too riveting. Knowing this moment would come, my anxious self spent all morning figuring out ways I could finesse my way out of this situation. One option was to go to the nurse and fake a stomach ache. Another option was to go to the bathroom and poop, but each time my anxiety won out and the worst case scenario always came to mind. The professor was going to accompany me to the nurse’s office and ask me the question there, or even worse, stand outside the stool as I fake poop and ask me the question, and find out I’m a fraud and fail me from the class, thus ruining my life. Irrational and extreme, I know, but that’s what anxiety does to you. So as my knee continued to tap, and I took deep breaths, MS. Daniels finally called on me. “David, what did you learn from the “Great Depression in 1929” not knowing what to say? I gulped and was prepared to just say umm to maybe either one of my classmates helped me out or a meteor struck the classroom. I don’t remember saying my prayers the night before, but perhaps I did in my sleep because it was at that moment a loud ding went off, and the fire alarm rang to bless me. As the teacher encouraged everybody to leave their stuff and exit the classroom, I smiled, knowing that class would be over by the time we had to go back in, and I didn’t have to answer the question today. To say I was relieved or happy would be a significant understatement.

She’s sitting over there, four rows up to the right of me. Beautiful glowing skin, green eyes, and dimples the size of 10-carat diamonds. Ugh, I wish my crippling social anxiety would let me make my fantasy come true. But no. Her name is Maria Fernandez, and I’ve known her since we got lost together at orientation last year and had about a four-minute conversation. It wasn’t much, just how we didn’t know where we were going, and we were nervous about starting high school. It was an accomplishment for me for somebody who has a mini panic attack every time I speak to somebody. I still remember the last thing I said to her, “Good luck in big boy school.” Corny, yes, lame, defiantly, but that was the first thing that came to mind. One year later, that remains the last words I’ve ever said to her. We didn’t share any classes freshman year, and she would go on to be semi-popular while I kept to myself and got by. I was so afraid of eye contact I’d immediately look down if I knew she was around.
But that was last year. Today’s the first day of sophomore year, and there she is, first period, in my class. My therapist said to overcome my fears. I’m going to have to embrace discomfort if I want to evolve. So imma doing it. I’m going to talk to her.
As the class is about to end, the teacher is giving his last few remarks. The nervous energy that’s become all too familiar seeps through my body. Either I’m going to fiddle my thumbs and stay here until she walks out, or I’m going to do something I should have done months ago. It’s now or never. Almost instinctively, as the bell rings and she walks by, I slowly put my head in my bag as looking for something I knew I didn’t need. When I came up, she had walked out of the class, and I knew I blew my chance. Annoyed, but I was trying to stay optimistic, telling myself it was sophomore year and, unlike last year, I’d have more opportunity.

I love you, I hate you
How does one revert to love after years of loathing?
How does one show sympathy,
When one lacks empathy?

I hate you, I love you,
For better or worse, you are
who you are.

The thin line between love feels so thick,
You’re so sublime and repulsive
All at the same time.

But we’ve evolved,
It’s time to put past emotions to the side
So for the betterment of you and I,
I hate you, I love you.

I barely watched the news for the first sixteen years of my life and wasn’t socially conscious. I knew about some things that were going on, but I wasn’t informed about them. It wasn’t until December 13, 2013, in the wake of the protests regarding the grand jury decisions in both the Eric Gardner and Michael Brown cases, J Cole was on The Late Show with David Letterman, where he performed a powerful rendition of his single “Be Free.” Sitting in a dark room, it was a heart wrenching performance that filled my body with sadness as tears slowly trickled down both cheeks. Lyrics like “All we wanna do is take the chains off All we wan’ do is break the chains off, and all we wanna do is be free.” And, “I’m in denial, uh, And it don’t take no x-ray to see right through my smile,” penetrated my heart and impacted me like never before. His choice of words to illustrate and convey his frustrations left me in awe. Truth be told, I was not as informed about the cases as I should have been, but J Cole’s lyrics still left me in tears. I’ll never forget that moment, and I try to share the clip with as many people as possible. I immediately became more socially conscious and started looking at and appreciating songs highlighting social injustices differently. His words changed my perspective on the power of art and drove me to get my head out of the sand and be more socially conscious, and for that, I say, thank you, J. Cole.