literature

Evolution of Perspective

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Evolution of Perspective

In the past few months- since February, to be exact- I've looked at life from a new perspective. Not just life in general, but my own life. How I've changed, how I've grown, and how these changes have affected me.

I guess I can't say that I've changed so dramatically over the course of a few months, but I can say that I've become a different person in the last two years. I've- yes, I'll say it again in case you didn't catch it- changed.

To fully understand my pride, one must look back at my sixth grade year. Wow, was that a crazy year or what? I can summarize the whole year in two words- drama and hormones.

Let's start with drama. Particularly, drama with every girl in the sixth grade gifted program at my school. Everyone was involved, even if you didn't know it. People were always talking crap behind your back. Yes, even your best friends. One could either totally ignore the person, or think of a way to make them feel their pain and embarrassment.

So there was the friend drama. Then there was relationship drama.

Relationship drama was usually the cause of friend drama. They went together, well, like a couple.

People usually talked like this:
"He's dating her?" "Yep." "But I love him!" "I'm sorry" *hug* "I'm so depressed!
And I'm ugly, and stupid, and totally terrible!"

I hung out with the popular girls. The pretty girls. The ones that had new boyfriends every week.

I didn't care. I thought, "I don't need a boyfriend, I'm in sixth grade." And I saw how crazy my friends were getting, how obsessed they were over guys. They would come to me for advice and I would help them.

I was the matchmaker of sixth grade. Everyone wanted my help. I was wanted, no, I was needed.

Then one day I decided I liked a boy. I didn't think much of it at first. Not much had changed. I was still putting people together. I still had my friends.

That's when I realized how lonely I was, how much I needed someone. "Why don't I have a boyfriend? I should have one, right? And I do like that guy..." I thought.

I became obsessed. I would vent my feelings to my friends. They listened, then asked for more help.

One of my friends asked me to join her on a "double date", even though the other guy (the one I had a crush on) and I were single.

They were awkward. I hardly said anything, and when I did, I regretted it. I wasn't comfortable, wasn't enjoying myself.

I went on several of those "double dates".

Soon I became depressed. While my friends were switching between boyfriends, I was still single, lonely, and had nobody to talk to.

My friends complained about me, saying that I complained about my problems too much and that I should just give up.

I would cry nearly every day, wishing I could be skinnier, prettier, and all-around more attractive.

The guy knew I liked him a lot. He didn't say anything about it, other than that he wasn't interested in starting a relationship with me.

I frequently asked how he thought of me. Weird. Quiet. Shy.

Hearing him say those words nearly killed me. He was afraid of me.

I felt ugly. I felt terrible.

Several times I wondered how everyone would feel if I wasn't around anymore, if I just ended it. I didn't want to kill myself. I was just curious.

The boy's friends would make fun of me, too, calling me creepy, weird, annoying, and desperate. I'd never experienced so much hate in my life.

The year went on.

Sixth grade was where I discovered my love of filming, directing, and editing movies. I was on the school news broadcast station and loved it.

My social studies class, also my homeroom, had assigned a project to tell about the history of both India and China, I believe. My group consisted of my best friends (the ones that hadn't complained about me), most of which are still my best friends.

Most of my weekends were spent filming the video for our project. We decided to do a game show and a High School Musical parody. Everyone would gather at my house to either plan or film the show or movie.

The deadline for the projects was approaching. We were still far back in filming some parts and editing most. I was severely stressed, and my depression was worsening. My hormones must have been on fire.

One day at school, I cracked. I couldn't take it anymore.

I cried at school.

I was in the broadcasting station when this occurred. Even with the door closed, my friends could hear me. One of them looked in through a small window on the door.

I was embarrassed, ashamed. I hid my face.

My mom, I love her to death, and the librarian helped to calm me down. I thank them for that.

So we continued to film our project, using every minute we could to finish it.

One of the girls in the group had a huge crush on would always flirt with the only guy in our group. I would always tell her to stop, to focus on the project. She would ignore me, too.

The guy always switched between that girl and another one of my friends that ignored me. The two girls always fought, too. And they hated each other.

I got into a chat on Gmail with the guy in my social studies project group.

That's when I heard the most shocking thing. Like, ever.

He told me that he liked me, a lot. Me. Me. The one that, according to everybody else except a few, was an insane, depressed, shy little girl.

I didn't know if he was joking or not. But as the conversation went on, I knew he was dead serious.

I didn't know why he liked me. He told me I was pretty and funny.

I didn't know how to feel. I asked him if he liked the other two girls. He said I was number one on his list (that's what we used to organize the attractiveness of people we liked) and that the others didn't matter to him as much as I did.

He asked me out.

I turned him down.

When asked why I turned him down, I said that I had eyes for his friend (the one that I was still obsessed with). I hate hurting people's feelings, so I told him that he would probably be second on my list.

He understood, but we didn't speak about it again.

We continued with the project in total awkwardness. I continued to attend his double-dates.

Later, a fifth grader confessed his love for me.

He asked me how I felt about him, if I liked him. I knew how emotionally unstable he was, and I told him that I wasn't interested in any sort of relationship, a total lie.

So I remained single, still.

We finished the project. The teacher loved it. I was proud.

I tried to keep in contact with my good friends, my best friends, over the summer.

I invited some people to an end-of-the-year party. When I invited my friend-the boy- to my party, he asked for two things: a hug (he still liked me) and an Altoid.

I agreed.

Did you think I had given up on the guy I liked? I did, too.

He came, and I realized I still liked him. A lot.

He was dating this other girl that I didn't really care for. Okay, I hated her.

And she came, too. She flaunted over the fact that she had him and I didn't.

The party was fun. We had some good laughs. I never saw most of those people again.

And I was glad.

Junior high was a fresh start. I didn't know anyone, and I was sort of glad. I could be whoever I wanted and nobody would know how I was before.

I made friends pretty fast. I also got involved with the school announcements. I loved it.

I wasn't depressed anymore. I had friends I could trust. I had friends that liked me.

I liked a guy for the majority of my junior high years. He knew; both of us just chose to ignore it.

I remained single through junior high. I didn't care; most of the relationships didn't work out, anyways.

I was happy, much more happy than I was in sixth grade.

My self-esteem had boosted. I, for once, liked myself.

Since February of this year I have really learned to love myself. I'm humble about it, not going around and telling everyone how amazing I am. I realize that I have my imperfections, that there are things that I could change about myself.

I won't look past my imperfections. But I won't look past the good things about me, either.

I never thought that I would feel better, that I could end up being happy. But, as they say, it gets better. If you ever feel like you don't belong, that you aren't good enough, please don't give up. Have hope. Believe in yourself. Find good things about yourself. It may take time, but you can do it.

You are amazing.
I just wanted to write. About life, how things were and how they are.

Sorry if there's any grammatical errors or something.

Let me know what you think :)
© 2011 - 2024 kyriewolfluver212
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