How Silver Thread Got Her Cutie Mark

Or, in truth...the defining moment in my past, that started me on the path to who I am now. But, as many humans do...I only got mine once I realized its significance, long into adulthood.

It all started in high school.

A time many remember nostalgically, but honestly, I'm just glad I survived it. That's the whole point, as Hard Harry would say.

My school was one of those weird mixes of schools, the ones you get where a town's just not big enough to justify separating middle and high school, so it became somewhat of a hybrid. Three elementary schools flowed into one building, combining cliques into a weird meld of the three just as they're figuring out all the changes in themselves, let alone the environment.

Now, I can't recall if it was Middle School Orientation (7th grade), or High School (9th), but I remember being seated in the auditorium next to the most unpopular girl in MY elementary school; I'll call her Dezil. She was the girl everyone mocked. I bet you had one in your school, too. Likely a boy and a girl. It's just how kids work, their eclectic, pathetic pecking order.

Anyhow, I wasn't thrilled. This girl was known to cause problems, overreacting to things and having meltdowns in class. There was something off about her that kept her puzzle piece from fitting in with anyone else's. And I was stuck next to her.

I may not have been popular, per se, but I wasn't at her level. I was just a bit different, in everyone's eyes. That smart girl who likes some weird things, I guess is how people viewed me. The girl who could draw really, really well, was in the advanced math competition, and liked to sing. Eh, so be it, I thought, and I hung out with the other oddballs. But at least I had friends.

Dezil did not; at least, none in our grade, and none that remained in our grade for long before being held back. As we sat next to each other, I think we did speak a bit to each other. I can't help myself, when isolated with one or two other people I have a tendency to talk. At one point, she punched me, but not in a way meaning cruelty, just as a jest. We sat, we talked, and I came to realize that she...was just someone else.

She was a person. I could no longer see why I should treat her like everyone else did. I hadn't associated with her up until that point, and doing so made me realize we all only saw her cover.

It took quite a few years to learn her story.

In that time, I became increasingly unpopular. For instance, I befriended her and another unpopular girl, and we sat together at lunch. The popular girls even took a stab at sitting with us to tease us with being 'polite,' which was a favorite of my school's bullies. Nothing the girls ever did was reportable. Thankfully, Dezil was never affected by it, and the other friend just passed notes with me and got past it, eventually.

That other friend moved away, and then it was just myself and Dezil at the lunch table. I called her Dezil, actually. I was Anzel, she was Dezil, and we contrasted each other. She was so loud without realizing, and very physical. Meanwhile, I was only talkative in small groups or when asking teacher's questions, and I practically never encountered physical contact.

She invited me to her birthday party. I accepted, as I was never invited to parties.

I met her mom.

Her mom was what you'd call a Walmart person. Severely obese, and after looking at Dezil's weight gain since puberty, I strongly suspected genetics. But she was nice enough, just full-on.

And...I met her dad, who showed up at the party.

I learned then about something that I'd encountered a lot in the U.S., but hadn't grasped back then. The reason why her mom had divorced him. Why Dezil was.......off.

Actually, why a few people I knew were off, in specific ways.

They went through something children should never have to go through, but so many in the U.S. still do, to this day. Another of her friends had also experienced...that, with him. But it's all hush-hush. It's always hush-hush. She barely remembers it anyways, right? So why should it matter? He's gone now, right? He can't do that to any more little girls, so why would anyone care any more?

...because it rewrote who she was supposed to be.

It ripped her apart at a young age, and she had to piece herself together around the holes. The shredded fabric of her life led to an incomplete, unwearable self, so she compensated with what she still had. She patched things in, and it became her. The old her, well...did it ever really exist, if she couldn't even remember it?

And now, looking back, befriending her was the moment in my life that truly opened my eyes. There was nothing wrong with her, or with most people; they just had no one to help them fix themselves. They did it alone, day by day, no matter what the cause was for the tears in the first place.

The U.S. depresses me because so many suffer when all they need is just...a little help.

A learned ear to talk to. A pill to even their chemically imbalanced mental playing field. A family that doesn't take your innocence in any number of ways.

My heart weighs heavy for them. For everyone. They all have their battles, and no one deserves to suffer. Everyone deserves help.

I am flawed. I am human, and have tempestuous emotions, messed-up hormones, and so, so much more. But at the end of the day, I try to give everyone a chance.

Be kind.

But...I'll add on, as I've learned over the years:

Not stupid.

Because people WILL take advantage of your kindness. Your trust.

Hopefully, though, karma will pay them all back in kind. Every kind deed influences the world in subtle ways; as does every petty act. Karma may not be tangible as some may think, but enough water in the sky and you may end up with a storm.

And so, that is how I got my cutie mark. I opened my heart to everyone, wearing it on my sleeve, and welcome everyone else's into my own. The threads that connect us string brilliant stories into being.

Everyone is a book waiting to be read, but all we can see is the cover.