At five years-old my sister could brush her own hair, approach complete strangers and hold meaningful conversations. I always thought she was some sort of superhuman, then I realized that everyone was able to do these things, and I was just different - defective or something. The only superpower I had was chasing cats around, strapping them to potty-training toilets and watching countless reruns of The Lion King. Fast forward a couple of years to Grade Four, learning to write descriptively in Mrs. Carson’s class, (bless her heart), I remember she taught us that a tree isn’t just a tree, but a shield from the sun, protecting us from our enemies, and a canopy to relax under as well. This is where I learned to play Red Rover, the one game where the only rule consisted of linking arms and running, hoping that you didn’t end up clothes-lined and strangled. Yeah, what a world it was. This is also when I learned that nothing in school is confidential - marks and grades are always pried from you. No matter how hard you tried to hide your stupidity, It always leaked out. At fifteen, I tried to kill myself. Stupid does as stupid’s told. At least that’s what I thought. Looking back now, I would mercilessly throttle anyone who dared to use the word “stupid” to describe me. Seventeen year-old me thought the path to love was through drugs, but drugs don’t equal love. Anyone who tells you that is mistaken and needs to revisit math. This was when I met my first girlfriend. She was a real treat - aggressive in many ways but love was never one of them. I didn’t learn much from her other than the similarities between love and drugs. They both have properties of hurt, pain, desperation, and usually culminate in heartbreak. Aside from that, she gave me nothing. At twenty-one, a new beginning, I finally realized the importance of living instead of hiding and loving instead of lying.