The Martian and the American

The Martian and the American

The sun was barely beginning to frolic past the hill. Rays of light kissed our face as we embraced the goodbye and welcome of this strange intersection from our naïve selves into adulthood. It was a moment that neither of us were prepared to face, but the day had arrived and the only option that stood before us was to look forward. A natural light bathed our skin as we shouted into the air, hands free from the shackles of statistics. We had overcome what our parents could not. Yet despite this beautiful friendship reflected in the photo, our lives originated on what seemed to be two very distant planets.

Her tears shed when her mother was running slightly late to take her to the mall, or when her parents demanded her to share her possessions with her siblings. Frustration was triggered when her family had to eat together and when prayers were said in the morning and at night. Anger approached when all of her demands were not met and when her parents became academically involved. She couldn’t stand her family asking if she had eaten already or why she looked upset. Since first grade I observed these people fully functioning in this healthy lifestyle, never truly being in need. She had everything I wanted and on occasion needed. As the fly on the wall, the restriction of speaking left me in tears. A burning sensation flooded the back of my mind constantly wondering how happiness was not present in her life.

Before entering her world, I understood my life was chaotic, but never to what degree. It was normalcy through ignorant eyes. Arguments echoed across walls while fists were thrown against one another between mother, father, sister, brother, aunt, uncle, cousin...Shedding blood was practically culture. No one asked how school was going or if I cared to eat alone. When money was short, hunger did not wait and my clothes had to last a little longer. Conversations were held with the moon. And as I prayed at night while my father tipped another cup of whiskey or my schizophrenic brother detached from reality or my stressed out mother asked me for advice, I wondered what were the odds and why did they play out this way? The sound of drawers slamming as clothes were tossed into bags became a talent.  Now 18 going on 19 years later, my fingers can no longer keep count of how many times I’ve had to leave and how many times I wished one of them said, “We didn’t mean it. Please come back.” I’ve lived a double life at school constantly drawing and erasing what I wish to be, never coming to full understanding of who I was.  

And when I, the Martian crossed paths with this beautiful American that could not grasp at all what I was going through, but instead could only offer her life story in exchange, I was blazed with confusion. Not because there was an absence of understanding but the fact that I saw for the first time I was not suffering alone. The intensity of the different situations varied extremely but regardless of what was occurring in each other’s lives, emotions were still present. We did not have to see through the same lens or sit in the same house to feel the same way. Through various trials it was difficult to trust anything that walked on their hind legs, and I still remember when it all clicked that her presence no longer reminded me of what I did not have but of what emptiness was being filled through this firm emotional connection.

Looking back at who I used to be is truly upsetting, although I still binge cry at times and miss my blanket when skies are grey, I’m not the same person I once was. There is no definition to who I was, am or will be. I’m just another bruised heart that was thrown into a lottery of fate and luckily my best friend came into the picture. By allowing myself to trust another being, I allowed myself to become a part of change. She taught me how great it was to take risks and not be afraid, how chocolate could cure the worst of cramps, sleeping in was healthy and that crying was ok.  

I am a work in progress. One day I’ll be amazing but I guess that also depends on what you think amazing is. In the right light you’ll notice the cuts and tear stains, but they’re fading. With the more people crossing my path I’m incorporating new ways of living life happily no matter the circumstances. When I was born, I was a reflection of my surroundings, but as I branched out in different directions I became a reflection of what I chose to accept. So for now I am happy. As college progresses I hope to continue to keep an open mind and further my connections with people. My goal is to stop being afraid of becoming close to someone. You never know what a relationship will develop and what the other person might gain.