“Butterflies too are few and so are flowers and most things that are beautiful. Still, we take what we can get and make the best of it.”
The House on Mango Street, by Sandra Cisneros
Back when I was younger, I always had this innocent fear of the dark. Click. The lights turn off, and I dash for the sheets before the zombie in my closet can grab me. Sigh. I wondered why I did this when I could have simply crawled into the warm sheets of my mom’s bed. Sprinting into her room, I breathed heavily as she welcomed me, frightened by the thought of ghosts taking me away. As the lure of sleep was drawing me away, I saw a faint smile painted on her face.
This one time in the grocery store, I remember asking my mom if I could buy some Flamin’ Hot Cheetos. Naturally, she responded no, and I didn’t say anything. My mom then looked confused, then asked why didn’t I complain or beg to buy a bag. I simply replied, as a matter of fact, that money was low currently so there would be no point buying chips. She looked bewildered, wondering what had happened to me, quite literally shaking me back and forth in hopes of finding an answer. I just shrugged, saying sorry to bother you all of those times we would go to the store, and she looked so sad, but happy at the same time. We left the store, and I was happily munching on some Cheetos, wondering where I could find water.
The Girl Who Wanted to Be Friends
Once upon a time, there was a girl. She had the biggest heart, and would absolutely love to make friends with everyone around her. She was outgoing, friendly, kind, the whole package. Then, she met this boy. This boy was the complete opposite. He didn’t like to go outside, as he was afraid of being shunned by everyone due to his weird looks and mannerisms. He was awkward, weird, and shy. She said hi to him, and asked for his name. He meekly responded with his name, immediately feeling that he messed up in the small talk already. She then cheerfully responds with her name, and they have a little small talk. The boy then realizes that she really is interested in learning more about him, so he becomes less shy and starts to enjoy talking to her. The girl notices, and wishes to become friends with him, as she concludes there’s so much more to him than she sees on the surface. Over time, the two friends get to know each other, and they end up as best friends over the years. The boy becomes less and less shy, and realizes there’s so much more to life than he notices at first, and the girl is glad to have him come out of his shell. Everybody asks if they are a couple, as they are practically inseparable, but they always reply no, it’s not like that. They say it’s a weird situation, and it’s hard to understand, but that’s just the way it is. Best of friends, nothing more.
I Will Miss You
I remember a few years ago when my grandpa passed away from my father’s side. That day still resides with me strongly in my memory. A call rang out in the middle of the night to inform us of this news, but I fell back asleep a few minutes later wondering why we would ever get a call so late. I woke up the next morning, preparing for school when I saw my mom sobbing in the living room. I quickly ran over, asking “What’s the matter?” She then looked me dead in the eye, and said “Yie yie passed away.” (Sidenote: yie yie is grandma in Chinese) I was at a loss for words, and I was completely taken out of reality. All of my memories with him flashed before me, from him taking me to Froggs Bounce House, buying me a massive bag of Puffy Cheetos, and driving me home from elementary years ago. I felt numb for the whole day, and I’m sure the rest of my family did as well. It took a while to recover from such a loss, and our family did not feel the same for a long, long time.
All my life, I’ve been trying to run. Run away from it. I hate it there, it’s just impossible to find anything positive about it. Except for maybe one thing, I suppose. It’s a part of me. It always will, and no matter how much I try to avoid it, it’s always inside of me. The history, memories, emotions of it can never truly leave me, right? That’s okay, I like it that way… the only thing I like about it that is. Now why would I want to remember something that I completely disliked with all my heart? It’s a part of me, that’s why. It’s helped me grow, and I’m someone that I wouldn’t be without it. Am I fully proud of myself? No. But that’s okay, no one’s perfect and besides, it gives me a job. Improving myself to be the best I can be. Forgive, but don’t forget.