Goodbye to a Friend
There was this one close friend of mine back in my fourth-grade year. His name was Carter, and he and I shared many common interests, such as Lego toys and the Star Wars series. Our school wasn’t very big, so we both mostly hung out with our shared group of friends until one day, they all stopped hanging out with me. I remember being very confused because I didn’t think I had done anything wrong to them, and we had all been close for years. Avoiding me out of nowhere hurt.
I came up to them and asked why they were ignoring me, but they did not answer me, so I came to Carter and asked him instead. He didn’t answer that day either.
That was not all that they did. Soon after, Carter and my other friends began to bully me endlessly for months. I spent the rest of the entire school year crying alone with a confused heart. Every day my tears would flow down my face like waterfalls, and if it couldn’t get worse enough, they manipulated my other friends into leaving me as well.
It wasn’t until the very last day of school that Carter met with me alone to explain his actions. He said they treated me so horribly because my other friend in the group had a crush on me. This news confused me even more. If that friend liked me, why did they all have to be so mean? Carter told me he didn’t understand it either, but he wanted to apologize for his wrongdoings. And with my young and childish heart, I forgave him because he was the one person closest to me. His apology and explanation made me so happy. However, it was painful for us to have resolutions on the last day, especially since he would attend a different school the next year. It hurt a lot, but we had to say goodbye.
I haven’t seen him since.
Children playing by: Unsplash.com
Imagination stops at nothing. It’s also most active during childhood years.
When I was a kid, I’d run around outside a lot and would look up at the sky when I tried catching my breath. Sometimes I’d see shapes in the blue, not by any clouds, though. There were barely any clouds. Instead, I would see a few squiggly lines flying around and following me as I ran. They were long and skinny flying worms in the sky. Soaring around and chasing me. However, I later discovered that these flying worms were called “eye floaters.” Just shadow shapes that appear in the eye. Slightly disappointing, but to this day, I still like to think they’re actual creatures following me outside. It’s fun.
Child running by: Unsplash.com
An Important Question
My mom would always keep me as clean as possible as a child. To the full extent. There were days when I wouldn’t want to take a shower because of laziness, and she would tell me, “You’re a girl. And girls must always be clean,” leaving me confused. I’d ask her why only girls had to keep clean, and the response would be, “Because no one likes dirty girls. Boys can be dirty, not girls.” Boys can be unclean…but girls can’t do the same? Child me did not believe Mom’s words, no matter how much she repeated them. I still don’t even to this day because that logic is utterly ridiculous. Everyone needs to be clean.
A soap bar by: Unsplash.com
Friendships are great, and some aren’t. As a child, I didn’t know better, and my naive self did not care about being mistreated. I only wanted company.
She looked like a nice girl on the outside, a polite one only if you never saw her stealing my belongings constantly and coercing me into doing the things she didn’t want to do herself. But I didn’t stop hanging out with her, even if she also made me feel excluded in a lot of things.
There was her brother too. And both made me feel like I didn’t belong. For some reason, he despised me. His sister wouldn’t stick up for me either. It didn’t matter how much I’d try to befriend him, and I had to stop, or else he’d use spit wads on me.
I remember the very last time I tried being nice to him. It was the day I gifted his sister a handmade card full of drawings and figured I’d give him one also. If I gave him one, I thought he’d be nicer, and he and his sister would include me more, not just treat me like a person on the side.
But he snatched the card, and before I could ask…rip! The card became two pieces, and they flew into the trash.
Thank you card by: Unsplash.com
Stop being a pushover, I’d tell myself. You keep letting others trample all over you. You’re a doormat. Do you want people to keep treating you like this?
No. No I really didn’t. I hated it. Hated being bullied every day. I was only a kid too. I didn’t deserve any of that treatment.
But it was hard to leave. Incredibly hard to stand up for myself. How could I have friends if I told them to stop? I’d be alone, eating lunch by myself, no one to talk or play with, no one with me. I didn’t want to lose them.
So I let them continue. I allowed myself to be used and used and used and used…every day.
Every day lasted til’ I attended a new school. That was when I realized if I wanted things to change, I’d have to be that change. A new school filled with new people, I could start over. Learn to trust the right ones.
I decided I would not be a dumb doormat for others to rub their feet on anymore. No one could control my worth and use me for their satisfaction. Never again.
And it did change everything.
Pinkie promise by: Unsplash.com
A Dream and the Future
Since I was little, I’ve always dreamed.
Dreamed of transforming the world.
My parents said I could change the world if I put the effort in.
And I’ve known nothing else except art.
But my younger self didn’t know what to think, didn’t truly understand. What could I really do to try and change this world?
What could art do? I’d question. How could simple drawings become life-changing?
The answer revealed itself later, on a day where I listened to music outside.
It was the day I realized…art can affect the world. Humans need it to feel, to connect.
We need art to express ourselves. Expression is the first step to change.
So I drew more, I began to write.
I wrote about people, people like our kind.
Some in the light, some in the dark.
Some in the middle, impossible to define. The gray.
Human-like behavior and the harm it can do to others.
Different situations and inclusive subjects.
I write and draw, hoping that people would eventually see and understand. Hoping that the world would one day see and begin to change for the better.
I hope to succeed and make my younger self proud.
Dream in a bottle by: Unsplash.com