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 A piece of the past

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Sniggle
Mega Asshole Duo
Sniggle


Posts : 2025
Join date : 2011-11-12
Age : 30
Location : Dream Weavers

A piece of the past Empty
PostSubject: A piece of the past   A piece of the past I_icon_minitimeFri May 25, 2012 9:36 pm

Hi. In 9th grade I had to write something on who I thought I was. I figured I'd share it here because this section of the forum is rather dreary. Excuse any mistakes that may be in it; the paper is old and tattered so some of what I wrote isn't actually legible. But this was life in my perspective.

"Traits. Characteristics. What defines a single person from someone else? Talent. I am defined as someone different. I am not exactly the same as any other person on this planet. I am who I choose to be. I am what I want to be. I am me, myself, and I.

Stereotypes: prejudice thoughts about someone before actually talking to, interacting with, or even meeting a person. I am a loser. But what defines a loser? Is it because I stand out? Is it because I don't buy clothes from Hollister or because i don't have a Myspace? Is the reason I am classified as a loser because I don't play team sports? Because I'm lame in arts and music? Or is it because I can be socially awkward? I don't choose to be a loser. I don't choose to be classified and looked down upon by people who don't know me. All because of one single word, I am categorized. Everyone is grouped based upon first impressions and first appearance. I am a loser in the eyes of others, but I know myself better. I don't think of myself as a loser, but as an artist. Well, maybe an artist-in-training. I draw, practicing hard to improve myself. I like to draw birds, perching on branches. Drawing the wings are especially fun, because when they're drawn correctly, they come out beautifully. But others don't know that.

What else am I? I am a winter person. Cool seasons seem to be when I am the most active. I ski, down black diamonds and sometimes over moguls and small jumps. I go every winter with my dad to different ski resorts, ranging from places like New York to places such as Colorado. I also enjoy ice skating, preferring the hockey skates over figure skates, because I think they're easier to turn on. Snow is fun, too. Making snow men with my friends and having snowball fights, then filing in to the house to make hot chocolate and warm up. I prefer cooler seasons over warmer ones, but others don't know that.

I am also shy. I am afraid to put myself 'out there' and try new things. Getting in front of people makes me nervous, and when I'm nervous, I begin to stutter. I like to hide my emotions, usually, and very few people have ever seen me cry. I'm socially awkward, somewhat hard to befriend on a first meeting. I'm quiet around strangers, and loud among friends, and able to change moods at the speed of sound. Sometimes my mood is a mystery. Sometimes it is easy to read. But many people don't stay long enough to find this much out; others don't know that.

I am a reader. I am a writer. I am a sweet-tooth and a critic. I am so many different things, but most people don't see me as any of these. Most people don't know me, but judge me anyways. But, in the end, it doesn't matter what they think. Because I know in my heart, I am my own person, full of both good and bad qualities. I am me, myself, and I."


I was 14 when I wrote that--it was my first year of high school/last year of middle school(our 9th grade is still in the middle school) and I used to be such a dorky loner. I was that kid in the back of the class that had no little to no friends, and was socially challenged. Luckily for me, I had a basic idea of what I was back then, or rather, what I wanted to be, and that's where this essay stemmed from. I recognized that, yeah, people didn't see me quite as I had hoped, but it didn't really matter what they thought. So this is my lesson. I knew back then the things that I was passionate about--and that helped me. But not everyone knows who they are. Hell, I could very well still not know exactly who I am.

Everyone is deep, and finding yourself takes time. Just remember that who you are is you. Don't let anyone take that away from you, or push you down and hold you back. If you have a dream or a passion, even if others seem to think it's farfetched or silly, go for it. One of the best things in life is joy, and if it brings you joy, then keep doing it. Keep gardening or singing or diving or playing Magic: the Gathering. Ignore anyone who says you shouldn't or can't--it might just be a part of who you are. I know a lot of you are in middle school, and middle school is tough as hell. There aren't that many people who are...matured, I'll say, and they might just go out of their way to give you hell. Lots of kids face this problem, whether it's physical or emotional bullying. I know that pain, and it frickin' sucks. But things do get better, if you give them a chance.

It might be silly, but I'm going to compare life to the economy. The economy is good and bad. We have periods of time where we spend and laugh and enjoy and everything is merry. Then sometimes we fall into depression where you question yourself, your purpose, sometimes even if life is worth living. But it is worth living. The economy and your life get better. You go through a recession period and fix things up. Things will become okay. And if you think that's the only period of sadness in your life, you're misinformed. There will be other times where you are tested in life, bouts of sadness or anger brought on by events, most events being uncontrollable. And, it sucks, but don't forget that there is happiness. And there is a light. When you stop caring what other people think and just be yourself, as cheesy as it might sound, things begin to look up. Treat everyone with the upmost respect, and learn to love. Not everyone will respect you back, not everyone will be your friend. But those who won't take your invitation? Those who only seek to keep you down? Screw them. Just do what makes you happy.

This has been an probably-not-overly-inspirational hallmark moment with Sniggle. /poots

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