I am who I say I am.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic
A memoir about me, some of the events in my life and the story of how I met my love.

Submitted: August 20, 2012

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Submitted: August 20, 2012

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Can someone tell me how to put this in paragraphs? Thanks. Well, I wasn't planning anything to write except from to write from the heart about me, my personal experiences and how it's effected myself. I don't really expect anyone to read this, for the record. I guess we can start off with a little bit about myself.

I'm British, female and sixteen years of age. My main passion is art, although within the past few years I've shown a flare in writing too. I, personally, am not known for my writing, but for the artistic side of me. I'm fine with that, since I haven't shown much in terms of writing skills to anyone close. I believe my skills however, are limited due to the fact that I don't actually like reading, probably caused by my laziness. I have also shown an interest in costume making, which has shown up more clearly that writing. Come to think of it, it makes sence that writing isn't so apparent because it's not an actual thing that you can wear, or hang up around the house.

I'm a middle child. I have a younger brother and an older sister. Apparently it is common for the middle child to feel left out or neglected by his/her family, which is the on-going case here. I feel I am completely different to my family, like I belong in a whole different society. My family are they type of people who are more... Self confident I'd say. They like normal things, like reading and spending time with friends, whilst I do not.

It never used to be like this. I used to have friends that I hung out with all the time. But as I grew older, the distance between me and friends grew too. A traumatic event happened when I was in year 10 (when I was 15 years old). I had a major fall out with my so called 'friends', which set off some sort of chain reaction which has lead me to today. The bullying shortly after the fall out was the first cause of my supossible depression. Although I have seen a doctor about it, and a counciler, I am still not yet fully sure if I actually have depression or not.

There are a few things that I certainly do have though. Albinism is a genetic disorder which pretty much means I can't see very well and I'm as pale as snow. It is often referred to as being 'albino', but I do not like the label since it gives a negative view on the matter, in my opinion. I also have Trichotillomania, a hair pulling disorder which I've has for as long as I can remember. I'm even pulling at my hairs right now whilst I write this.

The only reason I got to finally write this is because I acquired a day alone. Right now, there is only one person in my life. Mum says it's unhealthy but I really couldn't care less. He is my mate, my boyfriend. Two years older than me (although it feels like he's younger than me sometimes), we get along in perfect harmony. The soppy, lovey dovey stuff will come later in the text, so I won't go into too much detail now. Most every day we would spend together, but of course I am still controlled, so mum hasn't allowed me to see him today.

If life has thought me one thing, it would be this; everything happens for a reason. This year, at the beginning of my study leave, I made the terrible mistake of meeting up with an online... Friend. All hell broke lose because mum found out. Since then, my Internet was taken away from me. But, this disaster had a great effect on me and my boyfriend. I guess I should tell his name since the word 'boyfriend' is very cliche. Tom and I, before the event, were mostly close. We would see eachother every now and then. Since the event, we made a promise to see eachother more, which has caused us to become much, much closer. I now see his as my life force.

I feel sorry and yet almost envious of those without a loved one. Sorry because they have no one to love, yet envious because they don't feel the pain when he goes away.. It's very bitter-sweet. I know people who strive to get a mate yet repeatedly fail, and I'm so amazed by their ability to get back up after a hit, I could never do that. I'd just wallow in self pity.

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For the next part of my memoir, I'll be writing the story of how me and Tom first met. If you don't like mushy love stuff, I suggest you stop reading now.

It was the 10th of December, 2012. Me and Tom had previously talked on facebook, since we knew eachother from school. He was in year 13, the last year of sixth form, whilst I was in year 11, the last year of GCSE's. I'd known him for a bit less than a year because he'd usually hang out by the school library at lunch where I used to be with my friends too. For quite a while, eachother's exsistance in our lives was minimal. We were only aquatences. It wasn't until he started talking to me on facebook did we become more than that.

Our first 'date' was supposed to be more like a double date. My friend had her own Tom, so the four of us decided to go to the local park together on the 10th. It turned out that she wasn't coming, nor was her boyfriend. So, I nervously walked to the place we'd arranged to meet, alone. I could see Tom walking towards me as I got near. We greeted with a friendly poke and proceeded to walk together to the park. I can't exactly remember what we talked about, but I was highly fascinated by him, by what ever he said.

As we arrived, we sat on the park's swings. Our pokes escalated into more of a poking war and I remember almost falling off the swing trying to dodge the oncoming finger jab. It came to a point when we were up on our feet, chasing eachother around the swings like little kids again. I had already began to feel relaxed around him, I could finally be myself.

Eventually, I was leaned up against a pole of the swings, and him standing just a couple of meters in front. There was silence, a nice, warm silence that wasn't awkward at all. I knew something was bound to happen between us, I just might have sped it up a bit. I somewhat shied away a tad as I asked, 'can I have a hug?...' Nothing more needed to be said. Soon, his arms were around me, holding me close. It was nothing like a friendly hug. Hugs of that kind last for 3 seconds max, minimal body contact. But this hug, well I wouldn't even call it a hug. It was more of a cuddle that we shared, and due to the size difference, I could easily tuck my head under his chin. I felt like he would have held me forever, have I not got my revenge and 'sneak' poked his side.

We moved away from the swings, towards the area with monkey bars and poles to hang on. Not only are those poles good to hang on, but offer some seating. We sat on them and talked more. I don't know what possessed me to, but I grabbed his arm and laid it around my shoulders. I didn't even care about the 'what ifs', like what if he rejected the gesture. Fortunately, he very much accepted it, and went beyond accepting. He pulled me close, and I rest my head on his shoulder; it was outstandingly natural.

We decided to move to a more comfortable place, a yellow beam that was much flatter and thicker than a single pole. We resumed the position of him holding me, and I even wrapped my arm around his waist to get closer. At times we talked, but there were times when it was silent. We just sat there, enjoying eachother's company, resting with eachother. I made a little complaint about how this pose was starting to hurt me and he instantly took action. I couldn't believe it when one arm came behind my back, the other under my legs and he lifted me up onto his lap. I clung to him, both because of shock and fearing I might fall off him. I'll never forget that.

He walked me to the end of my street, like a gentlemen, and cuddled me goodbye when it was time for me to go. I felt like one more action could be made, so I asked for a kiss and oh my I received. I went home, happy.

That was over 8 months ago now, yet I still remember it like it was yesterday. He still walks me home every time we're together, I've never really thanked him for that. Not once in my relationship with him have I regretted being with him. We've had our tough moments, but we always pull through. All the pain of him being away sometimes is worth it. I used to believe that if we'd ever break up, we'd be unable to hold any kind of friendship. My reasoning behind this is that we completely skipped the friendship phase and because lovers almost instantly. Now my opinion has changed; if we were to break up, there's no way I could just let him out of my life like that. I'd surely want some sort of relationship with him, or want him instantly back. Now, he's not only my boyfriend, but my bestfriend.


© Copyright 2017 Dawn Derpsquee. All rights reserved.

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