One thing about being in college is that you get to meet brand new people with all different backgrounds and their own stories to tell. After hearing people’s stories of not knowing their father because he was a drug addict, or shot on his door step, to being rapped by someone they trusted, and not being able to walk around the corner at night time, alone; it made me think i didn’t have a story to tell.
You could say that i grew up sheltered, in a safe neighbor hood with a good public school system, and friendly neighbors everywhere you looked. The most exciting things that happened in my town was when there was a fight in school, or when a boy stabbed another boy in a 3-D design class with an exact o knife (the whole town was talking about that!). Listening to everyone’s story was one of the most surreal moments in my life. I knew events like theirs happened, but just by looking at them i would have never guessed. These were people who were my age, who had a family like me, and the same goals and aspirations just like me. But yet they went through so many things that i couldn’t even imagine going through. It made me take a step back and think about all the things that I’ve gotten mad about in the past, and suddenly they didn’t seem to matter.
The fact that my parents didn’t give me my own laptop for Christmas, a car for my birthday, or let me go to the beach with my friends on the last day of school all seemed like luxury problems that shouldn’t even matter. And in reality they shouldn’t compared to some one wondering if when they get home will the electricity be on or if there will be food in the fridge. It made me think of all the times i claimed how much i hated my life, and how life was so unfair to me. It made me think about if all my life i was so naive to think raping’s and kidnappings , people loosing their loved ones, and being worried for their safety didn’t exists in my little perfect world. Or was it just one of those things where it doesn’t actually affect you unless it happens to you or someone you know?
Or was it because all my life my parents tried to protect me and raise me and my brother so we really didn’t have to worry, or even know about the struggles and the harshness of real life? What if i was just blessed. Blessed with a really good life that so many people would kill for. The life that i constantly wanted to change and get out of someone would have gladly stepped in my shoes and be thrilled to do so.
Going away to college and learning about so many different people i would have never met back at home, made me appreciate the life i live. Just from hearing their stories made me realize so much about myself and my life that i had never thought of before. Just because i don’t have a “tragic” or a life changing story doesn’t mean i don’t have a story to tell. Everyone has a story, their own background, voice, something that makes them who they are; that needs to shared, good or bad. Just because i didn’t have the hardships growing up that some people had I learned not to be embarrassed about not experiencing things they did. I learned to love my life, and to look around and see everything that i’ve been given and appreciate it, instead of wishing i had the next best thing. So the next time, i’m asked what my story is i wont sit there just listening thinking about how sheltered and naive i am, instead im going to tell my story and be proud of how blessed i am.