If you must know....
I was a fat child with pigtails and braces on my teeth.
The mirror was never one of my best friends.
I shied away from having my photographs taken.
I was one of the tallest girls in class. When you're in an all-girls school and want to blend in the crowd, that really does not go to your advantage.
I was always made to stand at the end of the line during assembly time in school. The teachers and nuns had some crazy hang-up about making the entire class stand according to their heights, with the shortest ones standing way out in the front.
I was always at the far end. And the girl standing right in front of me would always had this consistent cold or stomach ache. Yes, these are my earliest memories of the school I came to love.
I was too quiet to be popular by a long shot. And I longed for classes to begin so that I would not have to wait for someone to come and talk to me. I found solace in my school books.
You guessed it. I was boring with a capital B.
I don't really have any recollection of naughty pranks I played on classmates or teachers. Because I was not included in any of them.
Things were a little different at home though. But not much.
Being blessed with a quick-witted older sibling who could talk incessantly didn't help matters much.
My parents doted on me, like they still do. I was the little innocent lamb anyone could take for a ride.
Trusting strangers came easily to me. I had a ready smile for anyone on the street who'd care to smile back, the kids and the old alike. Though I have a hunch my metal-enhanced smile really didn't melt hearts.
I was a happy child. Nothing bothered me except the occasional arguements with my sister I now so fondly recollect.
Making friends was never really my forte. Still isn't.
The child I was grew up to be a confident young lady. I think the first lasting friend I really made was after I turned 16.
I grew up to be a careful rebel. I learned how to work my way around things I didn't find favour with.
The first time I openly disagreed with people I always looked up yo is probably the first time I decided to come out of my self-woven shell.
By the time I was 20, I learned to be confident about my looks, my opinions and my idiosyncracies.
And that is when people started to pay attention to me.
Young love greeted me and I welcomed it in.
I never could be in agreement with the idea of "forever".
I realized there was more to the world than what I understood of it.
I started to read more, my hunger to know more led me to music.
There came a time when I wanted to scream out to the world what I thought of it. And so began my tryst with writing.
Of late, I have felt the childhood insecurities come crawling back.
And I don't want to let them in.
I remember how it felt to be inside that shell. It's not a sanctuary, it's a cage you build for yourself.
It's easy to find open windows when someone closes the door.
There are no windows in my shell. Just walls I can't make myself see through and go beyond.
I want to be the happy child again.
I need to go further on the journey of life. With no baggage.