“Beneath the gold, bitter steel.”
When asked to retell the story of our lives, it seems an insurmountable task. For here, the reflections we avoid from day to day are pushed back into our minds and the joy, the laughter, the pain all mix together to remind us of the thing we call our lives.
I was never one to be thought of as one of the ‘regular kids’; I had strange inclinations and humorous faults. As a child, I brought home a box of kittens because I thought they were toys, and cried weeks on end when my parents sent them away after a few days. I guess as a sort of mini-rebellion I never gave up on bringing cats home. There was that time I hit my head on a windowpane and didn’t realize I was bleeding from the top of my head, now that I think about it, I understand why all those people were staring at me on the way home. I even thought my parents abandoned me forever the first time they were twenty minutes late picking me up after kindergarten. The first thing I did was ask my teacher what I needed to make my own house.
Being a prim and proper girl was also not my forte growing up. Being the youngest and only girl among five sort of had an impact on my tastes. Having mostly toy guns and toy trucks for play, who would have ever thought a Barbie doll existed? Might I mention the first time I did see one was enlightening. Imagine a little girl, barely two and a half feet tall, asking what a Barbie doll was for and my brothers answering along the lines of, “We don’t know, for staring maybe. For playing, duh.” But that was just it. How did you play with a Barbie doll? And I don’t think I ever did play a game of dress-up in my life—excepting the times I did, of course, have to dress up for occasions.
The 9th of May is always a special day, it is after all, my birthday. There are no gifts on my birthday, mainly because I feel awkward around the entire concept of gift-giving. So on this day, I am left alone to mill around in my room. I treat it as sort of a day of refuge.
I don’t know exactly when I came of age, and I feel I haven’t still. But if you can call the first epiphany of your life a coming of age story, then so is mine. I’m sure we’ve all had this moment at least once. Realizing as children that we won’t be children forever; that we’d need to grow up, not merely for ourselves but for our loved ones. It was especially shocking since I just suddenly came across it one day, while I was walking around the neighborhood. That first time you feel like you can’t take a breath deep enough because of the shock, and you just sit there.
And of course, the First Love, First Bigo story. That first time I ever had a crush in my life, I didn’t realize it until someone else told me. And me, the ever-tomboy, not believing. Of course, I like to think I’m not entirely blind; I did get it sooner or later. Perhaps a year later, give or take. And I did like this boy back then. There were those little times and memories that’ll never leave me but I’m just too shy to write about. It didn’t happen though, whatever reason for, I can’t recall.
Most of my life happened between these stories, I’ve just failed to mention when exactly. In every other aspect though, I was still weird. And gosh, when I remember all the embarrassing things I’ve done I could just laugh all day. One example being me, walking into another classroom of the first week of freshman high school, picking up a box of oil pastels and announcing to the strangers, “I love Craypas!” then walking out as soon as I came in. And all those times I was singing in the hallways, clinging to posts like a scorned lover. Basically me, on a normal day.
I’d like to end this autobiography by clarifying that I don’t know how to write autobiographies. And I tried not to make this sound like a set script that sounded like “My name is… I was born on… I am from…” because I felt a window into my character would be better to present than a Bio Data sheet.
Note: Can anyone guess where the quote is from? No googling. :D [Added: Dec 05, 2013 @ 09:32]