I just stood there, watching in anguish as the contents of my pencilcase was emptied into the little drain outside of class. They said a family member would die if I were to keep those that were shorter than my fingers.
A family member for every finger
But I picked them up anyway, my precious little colour pencils, after they had gone. My body shaking as I sobbed silently.
I was 7 then.
I don't think I ever understood how a person could be disliked merely for being.... different.
I hated being different. I hated them for thinking I was different. I hated ME for being different.
I went through a period of time where I couldn't even bear to look at myself in the mirror. When away from home, I would avoid looking at anything that would show my reflection. Watching Oprah one afternoon, on how these three people were all unable to look at themselves, in fear that what they would see would be something so hideously unbearable, drove me to tears.
The hardest was to begin accepting things for what they were. To start accepting ME. I don't think I have altogether, but I'm working on it. Some days it's hard and my mind goes back to what used to be. At moments like those, I feel down and beaten.
I am trying, trying to love myself.
I've been lapsing into occasional depressive modes lately. And in the process, I've hurt the one most beloved to me today, due to my own stupidity.
Along the years, we've all had our share of ups and downs. No doubt, there's more to come. But I guess, no matter how hard you fall, you've got to get up and soldier on.
A simple gesture from a dear friend lifted my spirits yesterday.
I felt happy, so happy.
I'll treasure that priceless gift, my sole New Year Card.
With that, Happy New Year everyone.
postcard from PostSecret.com