(no subject)
I like answering this question.
The earliest event I can remember must have been when I was 4 or 5. My family and I were living in an apartment complex somewhere in Phoenix, I no longer remember the exact location. It is inconsequential. I had been playing in the little grassy area, which was surrounded by the buildings in the complex. I remember it clearly. Brightly colored jungle gyms in a sea of sand, the texture of which I quite enjoyed underneath my bare feet. I still do. Children everywhere, playing hide and seek, or whatever fanciful things that children do. I was much more extroverted then. I believed that everyone loved me - not in a self-centered way, but as an innocent belief that I had done nothing to deserve being shunned or mistreated. I do not remember if this was actually the reality of it, but what is reality if not subjective? Anyway, I was searching the flower beds for the perfect blossom to bring to my mother, who thanked me kindly and profusely for such simple acts, when another little girl named Sarah approached me. I had already selected the perfect flower, a small yellow flower whose name I do not recall, when she asked me if she could hold it. I distinctly remember wanting her to like me, and I handed the flower over willingly, without hesitation. She tore it to pieces, and walked away as if her actions meant nothing. Maybe they didn't. I stood there, baffled for a moment by the sheer destruction and violence, and then I burst out in tears of confusion and hurt. I think I ran home and told my mother of the events that had transpired, but I do not remember that clearly. To this day, I still have no idea why she had done something so senseless, and what I had done to deserve it.
Sometimes, I reflect on this, and it seems to me that I am destined to repeat this memory over and over again. In different situations, and with different people, but always the same.
The earliest event I can remember must have been when I was 4 or 5. My family and I were living in an apartment complex somewhere in Phoenix, I no longer remember the exact location. It is inconsequential. I had been playing in the little grassy area, which was surrounded by the buildings in the complex. I remember it clearly. Brightly colored jungle gyms in a sea of sand, the texture of which I quite enjoyed underneath my bare feet. I still do. Children everywhere, playing hide and seek, or whatever fanciful things that children do. I was much more extroverted then. I believed that everyone loved me - not in a self-centered way, but as an innocent belief that I had done nothing to deserve being shunned or mistreated. I do not remember if this was actually the reality of it, but what is reality if not subjective? Anyway, I was searching the flower beds for the perfect blossom to bring to my mother, who thanked me kindly and profusely for such simple acts, when another little girl named Sarah approached me. I had already selected the perfect flower, a small yellow flower whose name I do not recall, when she asked me if she could hold it. I distinctly remember wanting her to like me, and I handed the flower over willingly, without hesitation. She tore it to pieces, and walked away as if her actions meant nothing. Maybe they didn't. I stood there, baffled for a moment by the sheer destruction and violence, and then I burst out in tears of confusion and hurt. I think I ran home and told my mother of the events that had transpired, but I do not remember that clearly. To this day, I still have no idea why she had done something so senseless, and what I had done to deserve it.
Sometimes, I reflect on this, and it seems to me that I am destined to repeat this memory over and over again. In different situations, and with different people, but always the same.