Jesus Jimenez - Descriptive Scene

Growing up, I thought being independent at a young age was bad because I felt as though my parents weren’t able to help me. Being home alone and trying to sometimes raise yourself can be difficult. I remember after finishing the homework everyone at school called “hard” during the first grade, I used to sit around in a variety of positions in my couch until I was pooped and eventually thought something else to do in my leisure time. Going to school was the only “pizzazz” thing in my life.
 As I was carrying my navy blue and red backpack through the filthy halls of my elementary school, I walked up the steps to the dull, boring classrooms that I spent my 6 ½ hours in. While going up the staircase, an evil looking boy named Talib say to me, in a very simple sentence. “You’re going to die”. That idea persisted in my head and replayed itself throughout the rest of the day. Death was beginning to be my new phobia. I can’t explain why I felt that way. Or why it scared me even if I knew that eventually we all had to encounter this mysterious event called death.
    I didn’t really know how to react to that the time. Keeping it to myself, and thinking about it over and over, time after time made me insane! “Hey are you okay?” people would ask, as I looked at them with a ditzy look in my hazel eyes which eventually turned into purple hypnotic swirls eyes of a crazy child.
    Mom and Dad were the ones who put me into psychotherapy.  All the counseling was a waste of time in my opinion. I was deeply disappointed in myself for not being able to be stable. But it made me feel better that I had someone to play board games with every Saturday. To me, whoever was on the other side of the Monopoly board, was considered a friend and that friend’s name was Rachael.  The reason I felt Rachael was a friend was because even though I knew she was pretending to care about my problems, she did it in a friendly manner. Little by little the outcome of Talib’s words was decomposing, but I never went back to school as my old social self.
There were times I talked to my parents about my problems, just like any other kid would. We understood each other completely, we also understood each other so well, that sometimes my mom would go to the crowded schoolyard and start those embarrassing talks with the teacher before class.
As I went on to higher grades in school, there were things that Talib could have said, that didn’t hurt me. It’s as my life experience helped me change to who I am today. I no longer needed mom talking to teachers because I was simply to “old” for that, even though other kids my age at that time went home crying because someone said they had a wig on.
    I knew I was a bit different, when I looked at the insanities my friends used to do, I felt responsible for any injuries. Some told me I was scared to do it because I was always the “good kid”. I was far from being a good kid, I did do little sinister things, and held malice towards people I didn’t like, but only to the people I thought that deserved it. The real reason I didn’t do those idiotic endeavors was because I knew people didn’t expect things like that from me. I kept learning in everyday life, and started to comprehend that the reason I was taught to be an independent kid, was to make up for the lack of presence of my hardworking parents. So maybe I could eventually tell the difference between righteous rightness and wicked wrongness, and avoid having to complain about why my parents cant let me do this, or that. Today, they see me as a successful experiment, they trust me with things like staying home alone for hours, and finally this year my mom trusts me 79% with the stove (because last year I opened a can of sprite with a pot of boiling water). I turned out okay, my parents only wish they could do the same with my younger and ignorant brother.