Treasurous Memories

I do not know your name and you might not know mine. Yet, we can at least agree that we both have something in common among us. We've both experienced sorrow and felicity; we both have loved someone, we both have felt heartbroken and have wanted to give up at some point in life. We've both wanted to give up on life itself because of the vulnerability and loneliness that we have felt at times. We have had joyful experiences; experiences that we wouldn't trade for the world.

Then there's something else I know about you and it is that you have made mistakes. You have learned some worthy lessons through them yet they have affected you. One of your blunders might have been hiding your emotions. it's like you filter your words so that you can keep something about experiences and events hidden. I understand why you do what you do since I've done the same. Let me not bore you with the "common between us" talk and share with you how filtering my words ruined my life, well almost.

I belonged to a not too well off but content family. My parents could never afford to buy me the latest, trendy Chanel bags but always made sure to take my siblings and I to the city nearby so we could visit some new places there and appreciate its beauty. They always planned on something fun with their children every weekend therefore Saturdays were always eventful. Every Monday, when I would go to school, I would have a new story to tell. My birthdays were never huge nor did I ever get loads of expensive gifts. despite that they all gave me aesthetic heart touching cards which always made me emotional (even today).

My parents never had the money to drop us at school even on chilly, snowy days. I remember my legs would freeze and numb yet I would walk to the coaster. I would have to stand in the coaster if all the seats were taken. My teeth would chatter and I would keep rubbing my hands. My parents knew that yet never dropped me. On the other hand, they always saved up for any celebration. At holiday celebrations they would invite all our relatives. I remember them say "The more the number the more the fun."

I have four siblings, all dear to my heart. the eldest is Mirac who joined the army when I was in second grade (as you might have presumed, he was quite older than me; ten years older to be precise). Then came the other sister Zehra who was nine years older than me. She had a calm and pleasant personality. The sister next was Mahoor who had another pet name which was Milo. She was three years older than me and yet acted so immaturely that when it came to dealing with her younger sister. I was next and after me, came my peculiar younger brother Daniz. He was a year younger than me. We all had great bonding amongst us in our weird yet unique ways. My parents raised us well. I believe this as they taught us to respect our elders and to not never break ties with my family. This was something his parents never taught him.

Growing up I was a tomboy as well as a girly girl. The large age gap between me and my elder sisters had always kept me distant from them. They would never include me in any of their Barbie doll games and they never involve me in their jokes. (being honest, no one likes to have a youngster annoying them in the middle of their trending and spicy conversation) This was why I spend my childhood playing with my brother outside or playing all with my dolls alone. My sisters would refuse to share their dolls' clothes with me thus my mother would sew me clothes with some old cloth pieces.

I had always been picked on when I was younger. The reason for that was because I was afraid of almost everything( I was known as the chicken.) I was afraid of needles, clowns, monsters, darkness, and hundreds of other things. But most of all, I had a phobia of blood. my siblings would take advantage of it and tease me for it.

Moreover, I had a passion for art since I was a child. I would never lose my art supplies as I knew that losing them was never a valid reason for my parents to buy me new ones.

Growing up I had a hobby which was to draw and paint Disney princesses on the sidewall of our staircase which led to the roof. I would take the Disney Princess picture from the video cassettes as a reference (at the time, having printers at houses was very rare and only the super-rich, high class and fancy people could afford it). Then I would sit on the hot stuffy staircase case with no ventilation and would paint life-sized versions of them. When my parents saw the heat rashes all over my body, my sweat-soaked shirt, and the impressive painting of the princesses on the wall that was when they decided to put an old fan there which didn't bring much use to them.

As I was a younger sister, I had always been dependent on my elder sister is for cleaning my room.(or atleast at Zehra) the room I shared with my other two sisters would normally have my clothes, shoes, dolls, or art supplies all over the floor. Zehra always helped me clean up the messy room whereas Milo,being the mean sister, would simply pile up the mess in a corner and order me to clean it then and yell at me for making such a mess in the first place.

Zehra was nine years older than me thus she got married when I was in grade nine. this is why most of the memories I made were with Milo and Deniz. I remember our craze for the backstreet boys which was why when their songs would play on the only small box television in our house. If either of us would see a music video of our favourite bands playing on the television then that sibling would cry out to the rest so they could run down our spiral stairs and watch it.

We would save her pocket money to buy new cassettes for our new favorite songs and all our friends would do the same. When would get annoyed listening to the songs over and over again then we would trade our songs with our friends.

I had always been one of the most popular girls in school though I never acted like the popular girl stereotype. I was never rude to others nor did would I ever ditch anyone. I despised foul language.The probable reason for my high-school fame could have been my beauty. I don't favor narcissism but that was what everyone told me. They told me my eyes were the sea and that my hair was the sand on the beach. They told me my eyes sparkled and my hair shone when the light hit it . Everyone loved it when I wore my favorite chocolate brown lipgloss. They told me they loved my dressing style and how my teeth sparkled when I smiled.

One of the saddest parts of my childhood was that I didn't know that I had value for being a daughter, a friend, a sister but most of all, a human. Despite being told I was pretty, I never really thought I was which was my weak point. To me, the world was a happy place of unicorns and rainbows which was true before he came along. I was innocent and could get fooled easily. That was how he fooled me.

I remember that I used to envy the girls at my school. They all would always get a new uniform and a new backpack for school every year. They would boast about the new costly things that their parents would buy them. When I would hear that from them; I would wish to be them. They all seemed so happy. Sadly at that time I thought that I lived such a directed and limited life. I didn't have fancy bags or loads of jewelry. My parents were strict in my teenage years. (something teenagers don't like cause at the time they want freedom) I was not allowed to wear makeup on normal occasions; I didn't own a lot of makeup. I was never allowed to put on nail polish and was not allowed to go to my friends' houses every time they'd call. When I heard how my friends would never had such rules, I would envy them. When they would tell me that they were allowed to spend all night at their close friends' houses, I would be in shock; a shock is hidden behind a fake smile. Now when I recall all that, I'm glad I never had too much money or too much freedom cause otherwise, I would never value it.

My father was a small businessman man and my mother was a teacher.Both of them would conflict all day just so they ought to assist their children. They in no way certainly had the time to get indulged in their teenagers however that didn't imply that they didn't love us. My father used to be notably a short-tempered man and my mother used to be a witty, hardworking woman. my father despite being a choleric man taught me very treasured lessons. The one extent of advice he constantly gave me used to be, to tell the truth, nomatter how hard it is to say it, even on the hardest of days and time.

 I remember that he would buy bags of peas and then would keep a small competition for all his children. The competition was about peeling the most peas. Whoever could separate the most shucks from the peas would win a bar of Galaxy chocolate bar at the end. ( that choclate bar held great value as it was quite uncommon in our house as due to its high price)

Eventhough I never really lived a lavish life when I was young I still made the best memories with everyone. Now when I look back, I don't remember the test score I got on my tenth grade English test but I do remember the day when I spend an entire class period in the bathroom just so I wouldn't have to study or all the times that I would make paper balls ans planes then throw them on my friends or outside the class window. The memories I made are my treasure. Those memories are a treasure that I was fortunate enough to hunt.

My life was like a delusion till he came along. I regret the remorseful choice I made, we made. I often wonder if I could change those wrong decisions I made, would I? All I know is that he ruined everything....well almost.