Prologue
Maybe this is my karma for being who I was; haunting me down like an angry ghost.
“You can’t blame them, they’re just kids!” your parents would say whenever you did something wrong or out of hand. I’m not saying their parenting skills are, or were, biased! But sometimes, just sometimes, tolerating kids might leave a mark when they grow up. Thinking about it, you were still a kid, right? So, I guess, it’s okay that you didn’t care thinking about the consequences for the actions you have taken because you do whatever the hell you want.
In my case, when I was still in my youngling days, we were living in London with our Nana Charlie (since the mansion my dad inherited in Hampton’s was in renovation). I was a conscious, innocent-looking, but a pure mean girl. That kind of kid everyone hated but has to pretend they like them anyway so they won’t be the next target of mindless, childish banters and be anguished. In other words: I was a bully. Yup, that was me. I did not care if I made someone cry or torment them with the stingy words that came out of my mouth. All I cared about was that it made me feel amused because I thought it was okay.
But, when we moved back to Long Island at the start of my middle school year, something inside me changed. I wasn’t that kid anymore. I don’t think I tormented anyone ever again, at all. Well, except for my parents because it’s unavoidable and when mood swings come by.
From then on, it seems like I faded away in the background. Even if my friends are the popular kids, I still feel alone, isolated even. I just realized that it was the first sign of my karma.
Not that I am jealous of April and Ros for being the total package: intellectual, beautiful, and at the same time, always the talk of everyone. In college, as well, Lea, Beth and D are amiable, attractive and, popular.
But moi?
Not so much.
Scratch that.
NOT.
AT.
ALL.
The people they introduced me to are still acquaintances. No one gets promoted to friends. Even my siblings are in the cool crew. I mean, I don’t really care about it but, looking back, it’s just… I think I was okay, not being in the spotlight.
Actually, I was just okay… I was nowhere near special. People only knew me because they find my voice and my artwork beautiful. It’s hard not to think that it seemed like I was just another name waiting to be forgotten.
And as if someone flipped the switch, I became aware of who I was. Then I realize that I see my life right through my eyes in sequence. I knew that I am going into the light.
Funny, I thought only the good die young.
