Sweat beaded along my brow line. My vision swam, and the lights seemed to beat down on me like the desert sun. "Adam, are you alright?" I leaned heavily against a locker. "Adam, don't just stand there, you asked to talk to me." The voice sounded distant, as if I had retreated so far within myself that sound had trouble reaching me. I breathed deeply and tried to regain composure despite my rapidly beating heart. "I..." I managed. Words seemed loath to leave my lips. I felt as if everyone in the hallway was looking at me. My cheeks burned red and my eyes affixed themselves to my shoes. Every agonizing second seemed to last for hours. Finally, I managed to choke out a garbled reply. "I...I wanted to tell you that you're special to me," I mumbled. "You're special to me too, Adam. I'm glad we're friends." Such cruel words were so beautifully spoken.
It was an enlightening experience. I could perform on stage in front of thousands of people. I could survive years of abuse, nurse relatives back from the brink of death, and help my mother support our family single-handedly, but there I was, daunted by a 5' 5", 100 lb pound, green-eyed girl. During those few seconds, I would have preferred the beatings to telling my best friend how I felt.
My fear ran deeper than mere nervousness. I had learned at an early age to confine my feeling to my mind's inner sanctum lest a stray remark incur my father's wrath. It was tantamount to torture for me to open myself to another person like that. I felt so vulnerable. More to the point, she was my friend, and I had never had many of those. She had changed my life when she walked into class the first day we met. It was the first day of seventh grade and I had taken my seat in the back corner of the class for gifted children. I never talked much, and she must have noticed my quiet demeanor, because, after a few minutes, she walked over, sat across the table from me, and just started talking. From that point on, I had someone in which I could confide in. To be perfectly candid, she was the first real friend I had ever had.
We often dismiss the tribulations of the average high school students as mere trivialities, but my time with Skyler has made me see something more in them. The events in my life have always oscillated between miracle and travesty. The hardship of my life and even the exceeding grace that has offered me a reprieve from it have made the struggles of normal human life a distant imagining. Falling in love, or thinking we do, making new friends, understanding a new concept in class, having a conversation, sharing a laugh-these are everyday experiences that we often discount-but, as someone who's life has made these moments scarce, I have learned that it is in these moments that we can find great knowledge, not just of the world, but of ourselves.
It was an enlightening experience. I could perform on stage in front of thousands of people. I could survive years of abuse, nurse relatives back from the brink of death, and help my mother support our family single-handedly, but there I was, daunted by a 5' 5", 100 lb pound, green-eyed girl. During those few seconds, I would have preferred the beatings to telling my best friend how I felt.
My fear ran deeper than mere nervousness. I had learned at an early age to confine my feeling to my mind's inner sanctum lest a stray remark incur my father's wrath. It was tantamount to torture for me to open myself to another person like that. I felt so vulnerable. More to the point, she was my friend, and I had never had many of those. She had changed my life when she walked into class the first day we met. It was the first day of seventh grade and I had taken my seat in the back corner of the class for gifted children. I never talked much, and she must have noticed my quiet demeanor, because, after a few minutes, she walked over, sat across the table from me, and just started talking. From that point on, I had someone in which I could confide in. To be perfectly candid, she was the first real friend I had ever had.
We often dismiss the tribulations of the average high school students as mere trivialities, but my time with Skyler has made me see something more in them. The events in my life have always oscillated between miracle and travesty. The hardship of my life and even the exceeding grace that has offered me a reprieve from it have made the struggles of normal human life a distant imagining. Falling in love, or thinking we do, making new friends, understanding a new concept in class, having a conversation, sharing a laugh-these are everyday experiences that we often discount-but, as someone who's life has made these moments scarce, I have learned that it is in these moments that we can find great knowledge, not just of the world, but of ourselves.
