Keianna

You know on when you meet someone new and they ask you to tell them something interesting that’s happened in your life and you totally blank? Well, my usual response of an eye roll and a mumbled “my life isn’t interesting” was challenged in the last few days. I know that my response was never very honest but my family usually tells everyone about my writing before I can, so my token “interesting thing” isn’t usable.

I stayed over at my friend’s house for a few days, and the entire time I was there we alternated telling each other stories from our elementary and middle school days. She told me about the time she a kindergarten classmate shook her, and how she was the only one who got in trouble when she reciprocated. I told her about the constant bullying that followed me all through middle school. As we told stories, new ones sprung up. We grew closer and now, we could probably explain each other’s entire life if needed.

This is special to me because I was actually willing to tell my stories to someone face to face. For a long time, I’ve wanted the past to remain in the past and as a result, no one knew my backstory. Remembering all these stories reminded me that I’ve done a lot more than I thought I had. It’s comforting. ♦