I never really liked who I am. I hated my face, my name, my family, my self-esteem. I always felt like I was the grasshopper in the meadow, that people wanted to crush, but didn’t because it was beneath their notice. I remember always feeling this way far back to maybe the first grade, and I had crush on a girl named Valerie. They said Valerie liked me, but I was sure she liked a boy name Garret. Garret was a good kid, never bothered me, but I was always jealous of him, because he was much faster, and he had the most girls chase after him during recess, and I was always on the jungle gym to scare to climb the monkey bars.
15 years later, I’m still afraid to try those monkey bars, and to be honest, it might have something to do with my fear of heights, but do am I really afraid of heights, or am I afraid of the impact of the fall. You know most people will tell you to reach for the stars, and don’t worry about what will happen if you can’t touch them. However I’m so enamored by those glowing bright yellow stars that if I can’t reach up and grab them I don’t want anything else, because I always felt like, if I can’t be one of the stars than I’m nobody, and I always based my worth on other people opinion of me.
So when girl one left, and then two, then 3, I always felt like I was losing a part of me that I was never going to get back, and honestly looking back at it now, each depression got worse, and worse, and I can never tell if the star I was grabbing
was too hot, or the monkey bar I was grabbing was too slippery.
My goal in college and for my life is to be with the one I was meant to be, but how can I do that, when I don’t even know what I’m reaching for.