Middle school was nothing less than a controlled mess: cluttered, chaotic, and strewn, but understandable to those who lived in it. I started a new segment of my life during a difficult chapter. During the summer between the fifth and sixth grade, I had a falling out with most of my friends. It was over something stupid, some meaningless childhood argument that I can hardly remember the meaning of now, but at the time, stood for an injustice I couldn’t roll over for. Most of my past friendships crumbled to dust, exploding under the pressure of my inability to make agreements. I withered under the fallout when I realized I had to enter middle school without a peer. I wasn’t a sociable kid, to say the least. Between my sister’s meteoric personality and my brother’s boyish attempts for attention, …show more content…
Question after question, line after line, the first few weeks of psychiatric help were a blur. I relented to the questions asked by these people, but I still couldn’t trust my doctor. The nuance was that this person was paid by my parents to talk to me; what stopped them from revealing my secrets to their benefactors?
I believed in a smiling God, a God that would take away my feelings of loneliness and sorrow. In this religious craze, I prayed a Rosary every day for a year, I attended church (for lack of a better word) religiously, I feared that even the slightest sin of anger or pride or envy would lead my soul to Hell.
I believed in angels; I believed in angels more than anything. Given wings to fly and to help people in their times of crisis, I prayed to become an angel, to escape these earthly confines I was held captive in. I prayed and prayed everyday to become something greater, to have wings to help those struggling as much as I was. I prayed. I prayed. I prayed.
My feet remained affixed to the