I Am Who I Want To Be

All my life I was told how to live my life and what was good and bad through everyone's perspective instead of my own. Through my elementary years I used to believe in what my parents told me, expecting them to teach me how to lead a perfect life. However, by fourth grade I met someone who changed my belief. My fourth grade teacher, Mr. Wooden, once told me, " Following that old beat up trail will get you nowhere, but making your own trail gets you somewhere." At first i never even had a clue of what that meant, until eighth grade when it suddenly came to me. In eighth grade, I was tormented endlessly by fellow students, so much that I thought about suicide more than once. I didn't have much support from my friends and family, I was practically alone and that left me permanently scarred. Yet, I did learn something from that experience, they may think what they wanted to think of me but they didn't know me. The quiet girl they saw was very different from the actual girl inside. As they tried to harm me with their words all I ever heard was what my old fourth grade teacher said and I would always laugh at those kids. From then on, I believed that I was who I wanted to be not who they thought I was or who they wanted me to be.

I had the same problem with my Father once before. We were fighting and he had tried to use my weakness against me. It bruised me, enough for those warm bitter tears to surface but he didn't break me like he had hoped. Instead, as I sat in my room that was filled with shadows, overhearing his roars that traveled from the living room I thought about Mr. Wooden and that one sentence. I knew very well what my dad saw when he looked at me, I always heard it every Christmas when he and my uncle compared their children. He saw a girl with no future and no talent unlike her cousin who was one year younger than she and was perfect at everything. But what I see every time I look at the mirror is a girl who is now terrified of her own shadow, always hiding from everyone yet she wanted to be known for something. That girl loved to draw for everyone, loved to bake treats for everyone, cared deeply for her pets, and held every little complement given to her very close to her heart. That girl, who I was once many years ago, still lives in me somewhere and she will never leave me. Because, we're the same person in one body and that girl everybody sees down these halls or in these classrooms is only half of what she truly is. I believe that I am who I want to be and I want to be my old self again.

Note: We had to read it to the class. I wasn't 100% truthful about the suicide part, I changed it to running away so my teacher wouldn't know.