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Autobiography: Chapter 3
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Prose/Short Stories Chapter 3
I was never gifted at making friends. Luckily, I found other things to keep me occupied. I enjoyed reading and living vicariously through the characters in the novels I read. If you took into account all the books I indulged in, I’ve lived a full life, that of a thousand fictional creations. I was also a model student. I was the valedictorian in my middle school and considered “most likely to succeed”.
While I didn’t have a million friends, I had one that meant all the world to me. Kelly is the most inspirational, kind friend a person can have. She’s overcome physical shortcomings with her indestructible will and strength. She could teach me a lot. But in the 12 years I’ve known her, I still haven’t developed the capacity to survive anything.
In that way, I am quite different from her. I let the smallest things bring me down, the most insignificant comments or gestures defeat me. For someone so keen on avoiding people, more than anything I want to be accepted by my peers. Something that has never happened, in my opinion.
Isolating yourself is the quickest way to be rejected because people just won’t get to know someone who gives off the vibe that they aren’t interested in being around others. A double-edged sword, I suppose.
I went to private school until I was in 8th grade. You’d think that students in a Christian school would be nicer and more accepting than those in a public school. Quite the contrary. When I reached 9th grade, I had a much easier time making friends with my classmates.
We moved to a new city, a new county, a new life. The race statistics had changed drastically. We went from a 100% Cuban neighborhood to a mixed one. A culture shock. But a welcomed one. Things at my old place had grown volatile. We had been living in a duplex with my grandparents. My mother and father’s mother did not get along. But then again, no woman gets along with her mother-in-law. Much less when the man they have in common is a momma’s boy.
Anyway, we moved to another city and started over. You think that when you move, you can start with a new slate. This is true but you’re the same person you were before you left. So unless you change yourself, history will repeat itself and things will be the same before you know it.
