Estimated reading time — 2 minutes
I don’t remember much about my childhood, like most people. Those memories are always vague and eventually you realise whatever you ‘remember’ is probably just a reconstructed memory. You don’t have much choice in the matter, and are usually convinced that your memory would never fail you.
The first memory I have was when I was 5. I’m not sure if it’s real or not, but that’s when I think I met Michael. I never had any friends, so I was glad when I met him. He called me Jack, and I liked it. As uncertain I am if I remember our first encounter, there is no doubting the strong bond we immediately formed.
I won’t bore you with the details of what we did every day for the past few years, but I will outline some of the things we did together, to assure even the most sceptical among the readers of our friendship.
Michael, being a slightly effeminate child didn’t have many friends at school either. He was bullied, and the highlight of his day was coming home and sharing a cup of tea with me, all the while telling me of his woes and lessening his burden. The tea, unlike my words of consolation, was make believe.
Another one of his favourite activities was cutting my hair. He would style it in all sorts of ways and I enjoyed each one of them. Fortunately for him, my hair grew inexplicably fast and he often got a chance to restyle it.
There was one thing that constantly strained out relationship, though. Don’t get me wrong, Michael and I had absolutely no hard feeling towards each other. It was his parents. I don’t think they approved of me, and I couldn’t tell you why even if I tried.
It wasn’t just disapproval; I began to think they hated me. The longer our friendship lasted, the worse it got. It pains me to even think about it, so I won’t dwell on this for long.
As quickly as our relationship had initially flourished, it began to diminish after two years. Michael grew to become a stocky football player, and I remained exactly the same as before; scrawny and completely incapable of competing athletically.
He made new friends and started to ignore me. This hurt me a lot, especially since I was there for him in his time of need. His abandoning me was the last thing I expected and it hit me hard. I felt like I had no one left in the world.
As I sit in the corner of the room and write this, I can see Michael and his friends watching T.V. Sometimes it seems like he notices me and looks my way, but I know better. I have now resigned to my fate; He created me, but forgot to destroy me.
Credit To – Vish P