Almost Something, Almost Everything

Missed

I've missed people, I've missed places, I've missed so many things, but most of all I miss being me.
I've missed the first best friend I ever made. We met in PreK and our friendship continued through Kindergarten. On the last day of Kindergarten, our school held somewhat of a dance, a party to celebrate the end of the year. My friend, he couldn't stay long, as he had to finish packing. He would be moving to Atlanta only a few days later. as we said our final, 'goodbye,' he gifted me a cheap, ugly bracelet, that I would come to break within a week.
I cried that night and looked over the photo album our parents had put together for us. One for him and one for me. My mom found me sobbing over a picture of us both missing our front teeth. She mentioned to me that I shouldn't look over the photos the first day he was gone because it would hurt too much. That day I learned for the first time that, 'goodbye,' doesn't always mean until tomorrow. I've missed my first best friend, but most of all I miss being me.
I've missed my grandfather. He passed away when I was very young, I was only about three years old at the time. I never got to see that side of my family very often, I still don't. We live very far away, and the timing was just never right. My grandfather was very sick. I think it was cancer, but I do not know what type. Our family is Irish and I think John Mulaney described it impeccably, "I'll keep my emotion right here," he exclaimed, pointing to his chest, "and then one day I'll die."
Death is not a subject we speak of often in our household. It is considered too touchy, and we fear speaking of our grandfather will upset my father. We will talk about him sometimes, but nothing too detailed. On my grandfather's birthday last September I described the only memory I have of my grandfather to my family in a text message.
As stated earlier, I never spent much time with my father's side of the family because we lived too far away. We would fly up maybe once a year, but we haven't really done that since my grandfather's passing. I remember once when I was about two years old maybe three we were staying with my grandparents in New York state.
My parents were staying in the bedroom next to the master. My sisters' down the hall. I was in the office sleeping on a rollaway cot. I remember I wasn't able to sleep one night, so I stood upon the cot and reached for the bookshelf behind it. I pulled down a novel and pretended I was able to read it. My grandfather creaked open the door. I remember thinking that I must have been too loud and it drew attention to my shenanigans. My grandfather gently removed the book from my hand and placed it back in its place on the shelf. He motioned for me to lie back down. He pulled the covers over my small body and kissed my forehead. I can recall that I believed his mustache tickled. He walked out and closed the door behind him. He never spoke a word through that whole experience. This is the only remaining memory I have of my grandfather. All I am able to judge about him, from my own perspective, rather than from stories I've heard and photos I've been shown is that he was wholly and entirely always a very gentle man. I've missed my grandfather, but most of all I miss being me.
     I've missed New York City. I visited New York, New York when I was ten years old. My grandmother, on my mother's side, took us as a high school graduation present for my sister. I was young, and I regret not enjoying it as much as I could have. I wish I was older when we had gone. I could have remembered and learned more. I also believe I could have enjoyed it more. I wish I had known what NBC's 30 Rock building was when I entered the gift shop. I wish I had enjoyed the Rockettes show more, rather than squirming around in my seat for an hour and a half. I wish I had enjoyed it more because I know I am lucky to have been able to go. I hope to someday go back there. It would be a dream if I could live and work there someday. It is one of my favorite places, such a small place filled with so much hope. I've missed New York City, but most of all I miss being me.
I've missed being me. I used to be carefree and filled with joy. I used to never worry about what people thought of me. I used to be... Me, but like how all change occurs, life got in the way. Within a month of being in middle school, my best friend had become my worst enemy, I had made several impressions on my science teacher that I was irresponsible, and my father had lost his job. Within a semester I had gotten my grades back up, but only with the help of my trusty safety pins.
I have lost many friends, and due to the great amount of social anxiety I have gained in the last year and a half, I have neglected to make new ones. My Pinterest has changed from saving The Vampire Diaries posts to lonely poems that tend to inspire me to write like I am right now. Good has come out of this tragedy though. I am a better writer than I ever could have dreamed of being, and I love it more than I ever have.
I never used to think I would ever become as unhappy as I am. I always knew life was difficult, but I never thought it would ever become this hard, especially not this early in my life. I wish I could say that I wish life didn't hit so hard, but I don't actually believe that. I just wish that I hadn't of let the horrible things in my life affect me so much.
I've missed people, I've missed places, I've missed so many things, but most of all I miss being me.