Essays

Less Than Perfect

This is a semi-informal piece (used the personal pronoun "I"), but the whole premise was to write about a moment in your life when you were "less than perfect."

This is about one of my friends who died halfway through our freshman year of high school. You can read a poem I wrote for her in a separate book titled Our Love.

Freshman year was the first time I was truly separated from friends that I had known since elementary school. A few moved to completely different states, but some went to other schools in town. Still, it was enough to separate us. At this time in 2016, there were many new things to occupy my time and mind. It was my first year of high school, "the best time of your life" people have always insisted. In spite of that, there was one moment (more like a month) that brought all the excitement to a halt.

I was told that one of my friends, one that I had known since kindergarten, was dead. Or in a coma. Or in a very serious car crash.

This is one of those moments that gets lost in my memory; but when I try, I can remember that day. I can remember what I did and how I acted. I remember how my friends reacted. Every time I remember, I wish that I had been better. I wish that I could go back in time to be there for my friends. The ones bawling in a corner of the classroom and the ones sitting quietly trying to wrap their heads around the news. I certainly couldn't comprehend it. So, I ignored it. I ignored this information of someone I knew being... hurt? At the time there was nothing concrete about them and their situation. None of us knew if they had actually been in a car crash in the first place, let alone their injuries or death. My brain immediately assumed that this meant that it couldn't be true. That the entire thing was a rumor, a horrible rumor that if I ignored long enough it would just go away.

I continued through the day ignoring my friends who were upset by these rumors. I went home and said nothing to my parents about it. It was just a rumor. I did this for days. Until one night laid in bed. I closed my eyes, but it nagged at me. I got my phone and checked their Facebook. That's when it became real. They had been tagged in pictures from their relatives. It showed them at different points in their young life. The most recent one had an announcement: the doctors would not be able to save them.

There was nothing I could do to help them, but I could have helped my friends. The ones who were there, every day at school. I could have at least sat with them while they cried, just so they knew that someone was there.

Over the last few years, we've all had our ups and downs. I have been very fortunate to not lose anyone else during this time. However, I have had friends go through hard times with their own families. Something such as telling your parents your sexuality and gender identity shouldn't be as taxing as it is for some people, but I have been there for them. I did not ignore their pain. I did not leave them alone.

When my friend died, how I reacted, I was less than perfect. I am not perfect. But because of that moment, I listen to my friends and my family when they need me. I hate when people tell me things about their day I consider mundane when they complain about people that annoy them, their little fights with siblings I barely know, but I sit through it and I listen. I might not be fully interested in what they're talking about or I may not completely understand their situation (these are other things that I need to work on), but I will be there for them. In person, through text/DM, or on a call I will hear them out. I refuse to ignore my friends because I may be the only one who will listen.

I am not a perfect person, there have been times that I could have been better, but I am trying my best. I am trying to be the best daughter, sister, friend, student, and overall human being that I can be.