New Teachers, Old Memories

September 25th .Sunny.

It's been only two weeks. And I already feel like God is testing me. Testing how far I can stretch, how long before I give in.

My new teachers are all pretty decent. Nothing to complain about. But Ms. Chow. I don't really comprehend it completely though. Many people say that she's really hard-core. Without a doubt, she is. My right hand has been so much weaker after the first three classes. But I think everything she does has a reason. Although it's only been awhile, I can already feel the amount I'm going to learn from her this year on my shoulders. Rock solid. My new English teacher can never compare to Ms. DC. Nowhere close. In a way, I kind of resent the hours I spend in my English class. There is no one to really talk to. There is nothing to connect to. My body is there, sitting on the plastic red chair. While my heart is drifting pass those walls, back to where they think they belong. In Ms. DC's room. Even when we're reading a book from the same author as "The Kite Runner", I don't feel anything. When my pencil tip lands on the piece of paper, there is nothing to strike my creativity. Just like the piece of paper, my brain is blank. My heart is just yearning for last year.

One day, Ms. DC went to my socials classroom, asking one of us to help a new student find his locker. Seeing her, I wanted to speak. But all my mouth was doing was being left open. It ran dry.There was nothing to really say. I probably left her really disappointed with me. She probably saw my provincial mark and was devastated. Someone that she thought that was something special turned out to be someone less than average. Nothing near special.

Having a new physics teacher is really brightening up my view in science. Mr. Block seems like a really caring teacher. The first day entering a class full of grade 12s again, I was completely silent, feeling a sensation of anxiety seeping in. He actually leans on his table, directly facing my desk, and asks me about my Summer. I thought it was weird. He doesn't even know me. He never even taught me before. And he already leans back, and smiles.

Mr. Lee as my Math 11 Honours teacher. Who else can I possibly ask for? Aside from Ms. DC, he was one of the only teachers that had lend a hand. There is nothing that I can't run to him for.

And finally, my friends. There have been a lot of friends that I've chosen to distant myself away from. It just doesn't seem like there is a point in being around a group where I've tried for half a school year. I tried to convince myself that I just need time to adjust. But that's not the case. I don't feel happiness. Jasmin, Vivian, and everyone else there just can't replicate what I felt before. Nothing can compare to grade 9. Even with Maggie there, it was that group that made me want to head to lunch quickly, that made me laugh until my stomach was hurting and my lungs were shrieking. I just want to go back to the past.

A Sandbox, and Building Blocks

July 17th .Sunny.

To have you as my little brother; To be given you...is a blessing. A blessing that I would never let go no matter how strong the obstacle in front of us is. My hand will always hold yours. In the sparkling rain. In the suffocating snow. In the daring sunlight. You're my baby brother. Forever and always.

Our friendship began with a building blocks. Building a sand castle. Simple. Nothing valuable was needed. We could be handed with sticks and stones, and still build love, friendship, unity. All I knew was what I felt. It was tingly. It was warm. It was my happiness shining through the very first time. Sunlight shining in my childhood. Piercing through growing leaves, growing trees. Thank you.

Our families connected. We smiled. We laughed. It was my everything. All my childhood memories were carried by this simple connection. I held it. I embraced it. As promised, I held closely to my heart.

We were running 'round and 'round in the playground. Us three. I saw pass the painted trees, over the colored ground filled with fallen leaves. It blew and rustled. Two adults whispering behind one. My mother. My eyes were ten years old. My brain was twelve. She knew that mouths were moving not far from her. But she looked around, like she was searching for something. But I knew she felt its presence. She saw it clear. She wasn't searching for anything. She was running away from what's in front of her. Or behind her. The moving mouths of gossip. The whispering message of: "We are best friends now. I've taken your spot. You are redundant. You don't matter." I stood there. I understood. My garden stopped receiving the sunlight that was nurturing it all this time. It grew dark, silent. Nothing moved. It was hidden and unseen. I had to quite my addiction, make it unheard of. An internal whisper. From my heart to nowhere. She cried, she thought, she hoped. But those mouths still talked. They still compared. They claimed their proud victories. I heard her tears. I could feel them, stained on her bed. On her heart.

Our sand castle tumbled down. Our building blocks was knocked down brutally. They were all buried down deep under my garden. Now, I'm given the chance to rebuild, to redeem. The pieces are given to me. They can be left there, to fit the dust between their edges. They can be put together and create the beautiful picture once seen before. Or a hideous one that would make me regret. Make me puke, cry, scream. It's all a choice. A risk to find our lost happiness.

But even without them, my garden continues to shine. It has learned to grow independently. Without sunlight. Without the sandbox. Without the blocks.

Without my childhood memories still breathing in me.

***

Mom,

I'm sorry that I am still so useless. From the age of four, to now the age of sixteen. I still can't protect you. I still can't stand. I still need you to carry me, feed me, love me. I'm sorry I didn't see pass my happiness and search past my own selfishness to find your unhappiness not so far away. All those tears you have shed, all the rejection you have been forced to accept, they are all gone now. And from now on, I'll be here with you. Both the good and bad. I'll endure it with you. I'll cry with you. To know that you've tried your best to keep that friendship strong, makes me cry. And I love you so much for what you have sacrificed. You are my hero, even if we lost. You are all I need to live on without my childhood still living in me. You are my sunlight now.