I remember being 14 years old, and at my school we had what was called the “Mid-High”, which consisted of the 8th and 9th graders. I was never the “Popular” girl in school, I was short, chubby, wore glasses and had crooked teeth; still do as a matter of fact. I’ve learned to love myself or I am trying to at least. Back then, if you had met me you wouldn’t have seen the hurt I went through daily, the times I was picked on, told by boys I looked like a dog, they would even bark at me. In the spring we of my 8th grade year we had a dance called “MORP” prom spelt backwards. was so excited, I had been asked out by a crush, for the first time for a dance. My mom and I went to 6 or 7 different stores before I found the dress I wanted to wear, she took me to get my hair and nails done the day of the dance. We were supposed to meet there, this of course should have been my first clue that there would be problems. My dad dropped me off at the dance, I remember standing outside the gym waiting for my date to come, nervous for what would be my first time going to a dance with a boy. Time has never seemed to go as slow as it did in that moment. Slowly, 5 minutes turned into an hour and a half of waiting outside for my date who eventually would never show up. I was crushed; it was my own personal version of Drew Barrymore in never been kissed, minus the limo and getting egged. Every time I called or text him to see where he was I felt my heart drop from the embarrassment and anger. I went through my worst nightmare when he finally answered his phone to let me know that it was all a joke, he went on to tell me how there was no way he would ever like a girl like me. I was stunned, I had never experienced such cruelty in my life. We had a pretty big school, there were so many people I didn’t know, I had the fortunate opportunity to make a few friends from two girls passing by seeing me cry sitting on the sidewalk who stopped, took the time to wipe the mascara off my face and walk with me to the cafeteria for the dance; they ended up helping me not just wipe the tears off my face, but actually find the ability to enjoy the rest of the night and for a few moments I didn’t care about what had happened. I will forever be thankful to those girls, whose names I can’t remember no matter how I try. They were a year older than me and we never saw each other again, that was one of the few times where I have witnessed strangers going out of their way to help others; true kindness and empathy towards another person with no personal gain or interest in the matter other than one human being lifting up another. As I’ve gotten older I feel as though that kindness, compassion and empathy slowly seems to be slipping away further; I wish we lived in a world where those traits came first.
until next time