As a kid, one word used to give me the creeps; change. Maybe it was the fact that change has always been just around the corner; it seemed so foreign yet so inevitable. In my seventeen years of life, I’ve moved into eight houses, lived in four different cities, and transferred to eight schools. I’ve met more people and learned more about life than an old man on his deathbed. Ironically enough, change was routine to me.
When I was younger, I’d strive to fit in. Whenever I moved to a new neighborhood, i’d master the cool kid’s favorite sport. Whenever I transferred into a new school, i’d mimic the cool girls’ every move. I thought being one of them would make things better on me, and it did. Until one day it started backlashing. I realized that my every move, mood swing, and even outfit were for someone else. It felt like i was stealing other people’s personalities and putting them on to the extent that i lost my own. I was very confused. I did not know what to do. It happened that at the same time, I had moved into an ever do difficult school environment. Everyone preached conformity when i had just learned its disadvantages. Nothing was working out for me; I slowly started slipping into a suffocating phase of depression.
I was at this new school, all alone when everyone around me was coupled up. I’d sit by myself during recess, watching all the other girls stare and hearing their nasty whispers. I was too emotionally numb to care to stare back at their poisonous eyes. The world to me seemed too cold and harsh to be worth fighting for. Panic attacks became the norm, and eating disorders took over my lifestyle. My depression began to leak into my outer appearance; my eyes were surrounded by dark circles from all the sleepless nights, and my figure stood tall, frail and hunched. Concerned questions showered me from worried teachers, and my parents apprehensive thoughts became nervous whispers.
During one of my school breaks, I wandered aimlessly through a bookstore; looking for a title that would grab my attention. Then I saw it, resting there on a bookshelf, abandoned and somewhat dusty, The Little Prince stood tall and proud, his cape flapping in the wind. I cannot find the right words to describe the experience of reading that novel. Maybe it isn’t as good, but it was my wake up call. Just like that prince, I had wandered about in this world and seen what a grown man twice my age still haven’t. The only difference was that the prince knew exactly what the effect of mimicking the characters would have on him, and instead he decided to learn and observe. The prince taught me that change was good; change helps us improve and better the people we are now.
In the end, I realized that playing the victim is always the easy way out. It didn’t matter to me anymore the reason behind that depression; I was simply certain it had to stop. I took the deliberate decision to transfer schools one more time and move into a better, healthier, and more accepting environment. But before that, I had to find my own personal healthy environment; I had to show more love and acceptance towards myself. After exactly one year, I am proud to announce myself free again; free of the chains and whips of the world. Not because I’ve tuned it out, but because I’ve learned to look at life from the mere eye of an observer- passerby. And now, in my head, I am that proud Little Princess, standing at the top of my planet, owning my own life, with my cape flapping in the direction of change. Change that I’m open heartedly ready to accept anytime.
