This is a very long post. I apologize, but I really had the need to take this out. ^^;
There are many things we always keep a secret from everyone. This secret I have is not something I can hide from people dear to me in real life, or from people who get to see me in the streets. In the internet, it is really, really easy to hide, simply because no one can see me.
Actually, I'm typing all this here because not everyone who knows me, knows the full story of my situation. I was holding it in because sometimes it hurts to talk about it. Also, even like this, I don't like it when people feel sorry for me. Lastly, I am not the kind of people who get hurt by what others think or say to me, but it still hurts that the words someone say to me every now... Are words they say to more vulnerable people.
And the confession is here...
I am currently 14 years old, and two years ago, I survived a car accident. It was so bad I just woke up in a hospital bed. When I woke up, I received some really bad news: I may never get to walk ever again. Those weren't the worst news of that day, but they are the ones I want to share now. Because of that, I have been confined to a wheelchair in the past two years, and been protected by an over-protective family (which I love, a lot).
I can be a very clumsy girl. I am not exceptionally good at anything. Before my accident, I was one of the fastest runners in my school, and dance was something I loved to do everyday. I was really good for those things, and I loved them. I have always wanted to stage in The Swan Lake, and I was building towards that dream, but I guess some dreams are just not meant to come true.
My grades in school are usually below average, except for the English, Spanish, and Music classes. My grades in social studies and math always get me scolded by my family even if I study a lot. The rest of the classes are just classes in which I get average or below average grades.
Sometimes, I hate being like this. My family has been with me everyday, and I love them. My mommy and my daddy, even if they can be too strict or demanding at times, have shown a lot of support and affection for me. My two older brothers who are in college frequently get out of their ways to help me do the basic things any other person can normally do. I cannot go to the restroom alone. I cannot take showers - I have to take full baths. I cannot go to my bed alone, and I cannot put my blankets over me alone. My brothers have to do this for me all the time. Sometimes I love it. Sometimes I hate it. There are times when I really like to be carried around everywhere, but when I hate it, I wish I could just crawl or something to my destination. Everyone in my family does a lot so I can try to live a normal life to certain extent. But I hate it how much time they have to spend on me. And the thing I hate the most is that I cannot do any favors to them or properly thank them without a simple "thank you". I wish I could show my appreciation for them more. I wish I wasn't leeching their time and energy like a parasite does. I wish they could live a normal life, and that they didn't have to bathe their little sister every night. But I love the attention they give to me - while hating the expenses everyone has to go for that.
Very often I have certain thoughts - and no, they are not suicidal or anything like that, because even like that, I love myself. Thoughts that anyone else wish they DIDN'T have to do. I really wish I could prepare my daddy a meal when he returns tired from work - I promised him I'd do that when I was little - But I really cannot do that. Or that he would ask me "Lea, can you please massage my back?". I wish my mommy would tell me "Lea! Please wash the dishes" or "Lea! Please help me clean the house!". I wish my brothers would ask me "Hey bratty, can you please iron my favorite shirt for today? I have a date today!" or "Hey bratty, how would you remove this stain from my shirt, or this one?...". I long for the day I will be able to properly show my love for my family, and for the day I will also be able to pay attention to them and not just only the other way around. I don't think about this much, because I try to avoid it, but when it strikes me, it strikes me really bad. Just not being able to give back all the love I have received tends to shatter my heart into pieces.
I guess after my accident, I was really being a "brat" and hated everything and everyone (hence why my brothers started calling me "bratty" hahaha" - and yes, in English even though we are a Spanish speaking family). Before my accident, my class had the typical rivalry between girls and boys. My main rival was actually a boy who was one year older than the rest of the class. We had fierce races, and we had a relationship that sometimes turned our words into rather... Uhm, colored words. We insulted each other a lot. We couldn't stand each other. I had my group of friends, and he had his. When we were in class, if we somehow clashed with our opinions, we would argue for hours and no one else but the teacher would speak. That's how our relationship was. It was really, really bad, but somehow, we liked living like that. There were always nice people all around. He had his "supporters" and I had mine. After my accident, I completely forgot how to see the good in people. To the day, I don't know everything that happened in that car accident, but I was constantly wishing hell to whoever caused it. That was never a personality I had, and to the day I really hope it was just a side effect after surviving something like that + the depressing news. Sometimes when I was in my hospital bed (which took a long time to be discharged of, by the way), there were two really, really, really brat boys. I don't like to insult people. I don't even like swear words, but to the day, I don't think they were nice people at all. They must have been 3 years older than me, and they were really cruel people. The only ones I know who I ever got to call bullies, was them. They were aware I couldn't walk, and even then, they pulled off these "cruel" pranks all the time. The first time, they gave me a "soft" slap and ran away. The second time, they got really close to my ear and started whispering really "rapey" stuff. I couldn't run away, and the best I could do was to put my head farther and farther away from them. I started losing some sleep at nights thanks to them. At that time, I got into writing short stories as a way to distract myself and pass the time. One time they came to my room, picked my block of paper, took out around 8 pages, and teared them into very, very unrecoverable tiny pieces. My favorite short story was there. And I hated them. I hated them so much. That's the day I completely lost it. My hope for humanity. The intentions of good people. The heart and will of other people. I lost it all. I thought the entire world was against me. I told "stay away from me!" to anyone who got into my room, except for my mom and my favorite nurse. They would take me outside to catch some fresh air, and I hated seeing all the people. I never knew what they were going to do. Some small children would pass by and ask their mommies "mom, why is this girl like this?", "look at that bad person!", at first it hurt a little, but after being confined to that hospital for so long, I got used to it. There was, in my eyes, not a good person there. I tried not to hate them, because I never hated anyone, but my feelings towards every person that came close to me weren't exactly filled with love. I was visited by my good friends all the time. After having developed a black heart and a few weeks before being officially discharged, my whole class visited me, teacher included. I was a little bit happy, but for the most part indifferent, because I thought they were all going to pull a cruel prank on me. My "rival" wasn't there for some reason, and he was the only one who was missing.
I was finally discharged, and spent one month at home doing nothing. Well, not really nothing, but I received the piano of a really important someone, and I thought it would be interesting to learn to play it. I asked my mom for a teacher, and she got me one. Ms. Isabel, one of the most beautiful people I have ever met. I was really indifferent towards her at first too. I just wanted to learn to play an special song on it, but she kept me pushing me forward to do more with it. My new school was her for a little while. I loved what I was doing. She taught me to read music. She taught me music theory, and I never thought I'd love this all so much (I had played the violin before, which is nice, but I could only do it "mechanically" because that's how I learned it, and probably that's why I don't want to pick it up again, at least not in a long time).
There are many things we always keep a secret from everyone. This secret I have is not something I can hide from people dear to me in real life, or from people who get to see me in the streets. In the internet, it is really, really easy to hide, simply because no one can see me.
Actually, I'm typing all this here because not everyone who knows me, knows the full story of my situation. I was holding it in because sometimes it hurts to talk about it. Also, even like this, I don't like it when people feel sorry for me. Lastly, I am not the kind of people who get hurt by what others think or say to me, but it still hurts that the words someone say to me every now... Are words they say to more vulnerable people.
And the confession is here...
I am currently 14 years old, and two years ago, I survived a car accident. It was so bad I just woke up in a hospital bed. When I woke up, I received some really bad news: I may never get to walk ever again. Those weren't the worst news of that day, but they are the ones I want to share now. Because of that, I have been confined to a wheelchair in the past two years, and been protected by an over-protective family (which I love, a lot).
I can be a very clumsy girl. I am not exceptionally good at anything. Before my accident, I was one of the fastest runners in my school, and dance was something I loved to do everyday. I was really good for those things, and I loved them. I have always wanted to stage in The Swan Lake, and I was building towards that dream, but I guess some dreams are just not meant to come true.
My grades in school are usually below average, except for the English, Spanish, and Music classes. My grades in social studies and math always get me scolded by my family even if I study a lot. The rest of the classes are just classes in which I get average or below average grades.
Sometimes, I hate being like this. My family has been with me everyday, and I love them. My mommy and my daddy, even if they can be too strict or demanding at times, have shown a lot of support and affection for me. My two older brothers who are in college frequently get out of their ways to help me do the basic things any other person can normally do. I cannot go to the restroom alone. I cannot take showers - I have to take full baths. I cannot go to my bed alone, and I cannot put my blankets over me alone. My brothers have to do this for me all the time. Sometimes I love it. Sometimes I hate it. There are times when I really like to be carried around everywhere, but when I hate it, I wish I could just crawl or something to my destination. Everyone in my family does a lot so I can try to live a normal life to certain extent. But I hate it how much time they have to spend on me. And the thing I hate the most is that I cannot do any favors to them or properly thank them without a simple "thank you". I wish I could show my appreciation for them more. I wish I wasn't leeching their time and energy like a parasite does. I wish they could live a normal life, and that they didn't have to bathe their little sister every night. But I love the attention they give to me - while hating the expenses everyone has to go for that.
Very often I have certain thoughts - and no, they are not suicidal or anything like that, because even like that, I love myself. Thoughts that anyone else wish they DIDN'T have to do. I really wish I could prepare my daddy a meal when he returns tired from work - I promised him I'd do that when I was little - But I really cannot do that. Or that he would ask me "Lea, can you please massage my back?". I wish my mommy would tell me "Lea! Please wash the dishes" or "Lea! Please help me clean the house!". I wish my brothers would ask me "Hey bratty, can you please iron my favorite shirt for today? I have a date today!" or "Hey bratty, how would you remove this stain from my shirt, or this one?...". I long for the day I will be able to properly show my love for my family, and for the day I will also be able to pay attention to them and not just only the other way around. I don't think about this much, because I try to avoid it, but when it strikes me, it strikes me really bad. Just not being able to give back all the love I have received tends to shatter my heart into pieces.
I guess after my accident, I was really being a "brat" and hated everything and everyone (hence why my brothers started calling me "bratty" hahaha" - and yes, in English even though we are a Spanish speaking family). Before my accident, my class had the typical rivalry between girls and boys. My main rival was actually a boy who was one year older than the rest of the class. We had fierce races, and we had a relationship that sometimes turned our words into rather... Uhm, colored words. We insulted each other a lot. We couldn't stand each other. I had my group of friends, and he had his. When we were in class, if we somehow clashed with our opinions, we would argue for hours and no one else but the teacher would speak. That's how our relationship was. It was really, really bad, but somehow, we liked living like that. There were always nice people all around. He had his "supporters" and I had mine. After my accident, I completely forgot how to see the good in people. To the day, I don't know everything that happened in that car accident, but I was constantly wishing hell to whoever caused it. That was never a personality I had, and to the day I really hope it was just a side effect after surviving something like that + the depressing news. Sometimes when I was in my hospital bed (which took a long time to be discharged of, by the way), there were two really, really, really brat boys. I don't like to insult people. I don't even like swear words, but to the day, I don't think they were nice people at all. They must have been 3 years older than me, and they were really cruel people. The only ones I know who I ever got to call bullies, was them. They were aware I couldn't walk, and even then, they pulled off these "cruel" pranks all the time. The first time, they gave me a "soft" slap and ran away. The second time, they got really close to my ear and started whispering really "rapey" stuff. I couldn't run away, and the best I could do was to put my head farther and farther away from them. I started losing some sleep at nights thanks to them. At that time, I got into writing short stories as a way to distract myself and pass the time. One time they came to my room, picked my block of paper, took out around 8 pages, and teared them into very, very unrecoverable tiny pieces. My favorite short story was there. And I hated them. I hated them so much. That's the day I completely lost it. My hope for humanity. The intentions of good people. The heart and will of other people. I lost it all. I thought the entire world was against me. I told "stay away from me!" to anyone who got into my room, except for my mom and my favorite nurse. They would take me outside to catch some fresh air, and I hated seeing all the people. I never knew what they were going to do. Some small children would pass by and ask their mommies "mom, why is this girl like this?", "look at that bad person!", at first it hurt a little, but after being confined to that hospital for so long, I got used to it. There was, in my eyes, not a good person there. I tried not to hate them, because I never hated anyone, but my feelings towards every person that came close to me weren't exactly filled with love. I was visited by my good friends all the time. After having developed a black heart and a few weeks before being officially discharged, my whole class visited me, teacher included. I was a little bit happy, but for the most part indifferent, because I thought they were all going to pull a cruel prank on me. My "rival" wasn't there for some reason, and he was the only one who was missing.
I was finally discharged, and spent one month at home doing nothing. Well, not really nothing, but I received the piano of a really important someone, and I thought it would be interesting to learn to play it. I asked my mom for a teacher, and she got me one. Ms. Isabel, one of the most beautiful people I have ever met. I was really indifferent towards her at first too. I just wanted to learn to play an special song on it, but she kept me pushing me forward to do more with it. My new school was her for a little while. I loved what I was doing. She taught me to read music. She taught me music theory, and I never thought I'd love this all so much (I had played the violin before, which is nice, but I could only do it "mechanically" because that's how I learned it, and probably that's why I don't want to pick it up again, at least not in a long time).
No matter what you think, I'll always be a supporter of you.
