Remember What You Used To Be

I remember when I was in kindergarten and my teacher had to call me to her desk everyday to give her my milk money. I saw her at her desk counting the quarters. One was missing. . . I waited until she asked me to bring it to her, even though I knew she wanted me to bring it up to her on my own like the rest of the students. I trembled as I walked quickly over to Mrs. Purvis, placed the coin in her hand, and went back to my seat to become invisible. Memories like this one fill my childhood. Classroom experiences were always tense and scary for me.

Today I told my professor that the ending of a story was cliche and unrealistic, that I wanted the protagonist's boyfriend to turn out to be a serial killer. This was offered in the middle of a classroom full of other students, and this was one of the comments I gave without being asked for it.

It has taken a change of perspective, new, more positive thoughts, and a lot of courage to get to where I am, but I have so far to go. I have to remember that I used to be so afraid and so down on myself.