Mine, all mine
In this very moment, the world was mine. All mine. I knew everything and everything knew me. Sing, play, dance, rejoice. I flew about the universe floating from planet to planet. Than darkness. Gone, dissolved. I knew nothing about the world outside. I could see nothing, hear nothing, feel nothing. I saw my life rush by. Baby, teen, adult, grandma. I felt under pressure, stressed. I didn't understand. In and out, in and out, in and out. Breathe. In and out, in and out, in and out. Than nothing. Than all of a sudden, light. Blinding me. I cried loud and clear. Screaming for no reason at all. I see lights, I hear feet scuffling the floor, I see blurry blobs, and I taste the fresh air of the outer world.
The world was all mine. Mine to explore. Mine to discover. Mine to love. I knew nothing about the world, and the world knew nothing about me. There was so much to learn in this new world.
Fast forward, i’m 3 years old. My life is amazing! So many new things to discover everyday. Glasses, school, flowers, rain,. I knew it all, but there was one thing I did not understand, family. How does it work? Fast forward, i’m 6 years old. First grade! Crushes, love, naive, carelessness. I was learning how to control myself, learning how to love, learning how to lead. Fast forward, i’m 9 years old. I learned my story. The truth. Reality. Fast forward, i’m 12 years old. I’m insecure. I cry, I suffer, I live and I love. I know. My story was true. I cried to my parents, I cried to everyone, I cried for help. I looked most to my parents. My guardians, my heros, my leaders, my angels.
My dad was always the quiet one. If you invited him to a party he would sit in the corner and eat. Talking to no one, unless he knew them. My dad is like the peace between the fire that raged between me and my mom. My dad loves to go biking. He bikes every sunday and saturday. He sometimes even bikes to work. My dad says it’s good to get some exercise now and then just so your body can stay healthy.
My mom is like the fire to my ice. We may look exactly alike but we really do not have anything in common. My mother is an interesting one. She says she likes to be organized, but her portion of the house is a mess! I think that my mom loves me. Even though she is yelling at me all the time. I learned that different people show their love in different ways. My mom loves to go skiing during ski week. We go up and down, right to left, side to side. Curving gracefully in the early morning sun.
Then there is me. I’m probably the most creative in the house. Everyday always creating things. Art can be anything. Art is the sunshine to my darkness; the happiness to my sadness. Art is not just painting, it can also be acting, singing, dancing and so on. I think that people do not appreciate art enough. They think it is only for entertainment. It could also be a huge opportunity to learn something new.
Big girls don’t cry
Me, adopted? How? When? Why? Who would do such a cruel thing? Why would they do this to me? I cry to my parents. Why? They explain. Tears flow down my cheeks like a raging river. My parents pat me on the back whispering that it will all be alright. I don’t understand. My parents explain, bit by bit. All I wanted to know was who my birth parents were. I took a class on how to sort my emotions out. I tried everything. I wanted to understand how this could be possible. There were only three words that I remembered at that very moment; love, forever, always. Three words.
My parents explained the back then china had a rule, if you had more than 2 children, you had to pay money for them to stay. My parents assumed that my birth parents probably did not have money to pay for me. So they gave me a chance for a better life. Crying while holding on to my favorite stuffed animal made me realize how fortunate I am. Squeezing my stuffy as hard as a mother would to her child, I thought, and thought, and thought. Inside I was furious, confused and hurt. I knew that what my birth parents did was the best for me.
I say to myself all the time that I should not be crying, that I should brush it off. I can’t help it. The tears rush down the side of my face so fast I cannot wipe them. I tell myself to be brave and strong, like my birth parents would want me to be. I don’t know if this is the girl they ever wanted or expected; but I don’t care what anyone thinks. This is me, and I’m proud of it.
Skip, hop and skip
School is amazing. At least sometimes. It’s like the time that you invite one friend over to your house but she/he brings another friend. You never know what to expect. Some days could be the worst some days are the best. Clothing, popularity, Instagram and Snapchat. It all matters. It doesn't matter how nice you are. Just as long as your popular you get your way. They could strangle you with words and no one would care.
The air is hot and everyone is extremely bored. The classroom has a wimpy AC and we have to take heaps and heaps of notes. Then, the bell rings. Everyone rushes out. They go to their lockers to chat and eat. Then they head downstairs in groups. I walk down by myself. I slowly eat my snack. No one talks to me. I sit on the side and wait till recess is over. The second bell rings. Everyone slowly walks back to the door. We pour into the classroom. We take our spots. I sit alone. We are in chinese class.
Alone forever. Alone. No one notices me. No one cares. No one likes my ideas. My mom asks me if anything is wrong. I say no. I tell her I don’t want to talk about school. She says I have to. I tell her about academics. She asks if there is anything else. I tell her no. She says okay; and just like that, the conversation is over.
I dream in the dark
I dream all the time. In my sleep, when I’m awake, even when I’m writing. Dreams are like soft thoughts on a pillow. Then there are nightmares. Nightmares of clowns, death, lies, creepy smiles and darkness. At night I lie awake on my bed. All the lights are off; and I dream. I dream about the good things. I dream about the world outside of the nightmares. I think about my parents dying to save me. I think about my life and all its privileges. I’m scared. I scream in my head. I’m pleading for help. I sweat, I bleed, I pray. Then I wake up. Breathing heavily. I yell for my parents. Its 12:00 at night. My dad comes in asking whats wrong. I tell him I need to sleep in their bedroom for the rest of the night.
Times when I can’t hear myself think. Times when I get all nervous and shaky. Times when I just give up. These times I am not proud of. Everyone gets them at one point in their life. Like when you go to sing in front of a big crowd by yourself. People will tell you to brush it off and pretend like you are singing by yourself. I am going to tell you to go up there look brave jump up and down, drink some water and deal with it. This is not harsh, just reality. We all know that no one can just brush it off in a matter of just a few seconds. Just do your best and move along. You’ll find out That you actually did a pretty great job
Feelings of hatred, furious, confusion. I slam the door in my mother’s face. Tell her to go away. That I wish that my birth mother was my real mom. These things I did not mean, just feelings. It hurt my mother, I knew it did. The way she had to yell at me, scold me, give me consequences. Sometimes I just wanted to kick, scream and yell.
I go on my laptop to cool down. 27 messages from my classmates. I scroll through them slowly. One by one I read them. Nothing important. Sitting on my bed, I think about life. I think about all the people who have died trying to save our country. I think about how much I love my family. I think about how much I appreciate this life. I slowly open my bedroom door. My mom is in the kitchen making dinner. I tiptoe up to her, and I say sorry. She says it’s okay but next time I have to be more careful of what I say. I nod my head vigorously and say I will try harder. She pulls me into a hug. We stand there and share our sorrow.
Times that I am happy. There are not many but I still cherish every moment. The time mom said I could get 1 scoop of ice cream; the time we had a family picnic; the time I got an outstanding grade on my English assignment. These times I cherish. Every second. These are times that there is love, there is happiness there is hope.
Sometimes I can’t help but smile at everything. When good days come it’s hard to stop them. Running around on the grass at school; passing notes during class; skipping through fields of green, green grass. My happiness feels like a bucket filled with glitter on a sunny day. I laugh at everything and I run around like a crazy person. Then I get home and I plop down on my bed and fall asleep. My parents tuck me in.
At the end of our journey
A long, long time ago, the world was mine, all mine. I knew everything and everything knew me. I would explore everything. Learn to love everything. Learn to love everyone. I had family to love and friends to love. Now, it is the end of our journey and we must stop here; but even so, our story will continue on and on. I discovered many, many things, and the world was all mine.
Author Notes: If you finished reading it, congratulations! These stories all have to do with how my life is and was in middle school. Sometimes it can be hard, or sad and sometimes it can be joyful and full of happiness. Regardless, these stories helped me take a look at my own life and just tell myself how to be a better person and how I could improve my attitude. I hope you enjoyed the vignettes! (I am sooo sorry, there is a lot of repetition)!