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I don't have talents. When I was young, I thought I was good at drawing. I still remember the "wows" and "how did you do it?" questions from my elementary classmates as they peeked over my art projects. They would mention my name when someone asked who was good at drawing. Did that make me a little too proud, only to feel sad now that I've realized I'm not really good at it?
As I grew up, I thought I was smart. Smart enough to be the top student in first grade, but never smart enough to compete with the truly gifted kids. I liked thinking I was smart, believing others thought of me that way too. Was I too happy being complimented by my classmates for answering questions in class I got a little ahead of myself?
I never thought much about my appearance, nor did I care about others' opinions. I would go outside without worrying if I looked presentable, wearing my favorite oversized gray t-shirt, which my mother would often point out as a piece a rag. If it fit me, why would it be a problem? It was probably when I entered high school that I realized what the problem was.
All these realizations struck me as I stood in the middle of what seemed like an ocean full of kids who were naturally smart and confident. It suffocated me every time they did something I couldn't, and it killed me more when they did better at something I was good at.
Does that make me competitive? Well, the answer would probably be yes. One thing I never liked to admit is that I'm insecure and feel like everybody is better than me. I tried to fit in with people who seemed hard to be with, but I lost myself in the process.
I gradually learned how to fit in. I taught myself their fashion, followed new trends, and tried fixing my appearance-trying to make it less ugly. But I never really felt ugly, the society's standards made me feel so. Lastly, I learned how to build a wall between myself and other people.
I call it my protection wall. I'm always in defensive mode whenever someone talks to me, readying myself as if they would attack me at any minute. I lived with that wall and survived junior high with it. But that wall started breaking down when I realized it was okay to open up.
It was the third week of being a senior when everything started to make sense.
Ding.. dong.. ding..
The school's bell rang, indicating the start of our first period. Everyone sat down and stopped talking. I hid my phone under my textbook while waiting for the usual fake cough and a "who's not here yet?" But for the first time, I heard something new in his greeting.
"Everyone, everyone, a new kid will join you this semester. Come– yeah, stand in the middle." I looked up and saw our teacher standing beside an unfamiliar guy. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with sun-kissed skin, fox-like eyes, and a friendly smile.
He was definitely popular among girls. He reminded me of the kind of person who was easily liked wherever he went, and it made me envious. If it were me, I would have to try so hard to get their approval and likeness, which seemed like a long process.
