Nothing is in chronological order; I wrote what came to my mind in a first come, first served basis
Introvert. Quiet. Shy. Stuck up. Bitch. Cold. Mean. Bully. Fat. Ugly. Unpredictable. Nice. Lovable. Caring. Cute. Beautiful. Gorgeous. Superwoman.
At one point, a boy I had a crush on, moved his entire desk away from me simply because he did not want to be near me.
Friends talked behind my back. Others right in front of my face, never using my name, just talking about specific things like for example, what I was wearing, thinking that I wouldn’t catch on, thinking that the friends I did have weren’t listening.
I hated getting in trouble. I’d literally cry if someone older than I spoke to me with an attitude. I cried in front of people up until middle school. Then again when I met my boyfriend. I was sensitive; add that word to the list above.
I hated being friendless but I didn’t know how to make and keep friends. Somehow, I always had friends. Those of which I became dependent on, emotionally. My relationships with my best friends were almost perfect. We’d go to each other’s houses even though I was on a tight leash at home. We’d be on the phone for hours. We’d make fun of people, prank call others, text, AIM, email, get in trouble, look out after each other.
They were my rocks. The reason why I even wanted to go to school at times. But honestly, where are they now?
I do have a few that are there for me no matter what but I neglect them because I’m always busy= because I am afraid of getting to close.
Some think I was spoiled. I really wasn’t. My parents had to feed themselves plus my two siblings, pay rent, tuition and many other expenses all on minimum wage jobs. How they did it is beyond me.
Can’t say that I was hated. Can’t say that everyone loved me either.
I was the guinea pig- the eldest child, the one who had to learn things the hard way. My eldest cousins had their own agendas. Why would they want to hang out with me when they had mature friends their age? I felt like the family runt- everyone would stare and be nice but no one really wanted me around.
I was the princess up until my mother overfed and made me fat. I lost the weight though. But my body evolved faster than my body.
I stole stuff. I cut school. I had a bad temper. I lied in (and out of) church. I curse. I used to judge people without even getting to know them. Once, I poured milk on a “best friend’s” head once. She kicked me in the shin afterwards. Hard.
I hurt people with my words. I gossiped. In middle school a best friend and I created an entire “journal entry” about the boys in our class’ faults. I remember one- we described his pants as being “nut huggers.”
I was always in the middle of best friends fighting. As in, they always wanted me to be on one side or the other. I never was. I tried to look at situations depending on what I believed was right. And for that, I’d be criticized even more.
I pulled my cousin’s hair for no reason once. She started crying and told on me. Once she dug her nails into my knee so badly I bruised and bled. I told on her but I didn’t cry. She hated me for years… although she says she has forgiven me for all that I’ve done to her, I feel that I’ll never have the relationship I’ve always wanted with her. Ever.
I’m forgetful. I’m honest to a fault. I have “attitude problems.” I’m “grandma”. I’m a big sister, a mother, essentially, to my siblings and at times, even my boyfriend. I had to grow up before my friends did.
A man showed me his penis once. He was a janitor in my house, fixing something for my parents. Crazy thing is, my family was in my house. Crazier still, I was about 11. A recent event reminded me of this, when I saw a man masturbating in his car.
I was a smart mouth. I’ve gotten a few whippings, with belts, slaps to the face and buttocks, once even the handle of a knife. Clonked on the head with closed fists.
Curiosity got the best of me when I was three and I planted my hand on a hot iron. Still have the disfigured hand to show for it. My mom was afraid the doctors would take me away from her for negligence. I grew up never wanting anyone to see my hand. I hid it well. But it played with my head, with my way of thinking, with how I interacted with everyone.
My idea of what school was came from what I learned in movies- cool kids on top, everyone else fell in line behind. I was determined not to be left at the bottom of the totem pole.
I smile and laugh a lot. Try to make other’s laugh because sometimes, at night, I’d cry myself to sleep.
I got “Inner Strength” to remind myself that after everything I’ve been through, I’m still alive, I still find reasons for living, reasons for smiling reasons for loving and finding the good in even the worst of behaviors.
People have this misconception that I’m perfect. I’m not. This post if proof that I am far, far from that. But guess what? Life went on after all. But guess what? God has forgiven me because I have learned and I’m still learning to forgive myself. I’m blessed with a beautiful yet dysfunctional family and life. It’s all made me who I am today.
I may not be everyone’s cup of tea. Hell someone people gag at the sight of me. But those are those people who can’t get past certain traits. Traits that I can’t help having after everything I’ve had to deal with. The good and the bad, it’s all within me. It just takes certain situations to bring certain things out. I’m that shot of tequila before you lose consciousness. Pow.