Finding Myself

 

Usually, when someone asks me who I am, I simply respond with ‘I’m Megan. And you are?’ or ‘I’m Megan, we’ve gone to school together since the 6^th grade?’ but when someone says no WHO are you? What makes you, you? I just stand there, open mouth thinking ‘who am I?’ because I honestly don’t know who I am. I just am. You know? I can’t explain who I am because I view myself differently than everyone else. For example the girl I sit next to in one of my classes. She hates me. She might tell you that I am a… well, you know. My grandparents would tell you that I’m a nice young lady who is funny and very bright. But my friends might say ‘Megan? Yeah she’s cool’ but I guess this is the essay were I tell you about me. However, instead of telling you my favorite color is orange and my favorite food is watermelon. I will tell you a story giving you a glimpse of who I am.

            Now the question is, what story? Something that shaped me… something that made me who I am… Got it! I’ll tell you about my best friend. Kirsten.

            As a preschooler, my parents had to meet with my teacher towards the end of my preschool career. Not because I was a bad kid and bite someone, but because my teacher thought I needed to go to alternative kindergarten, which is basically another year of preschool before kindergarten. The first day I went, I was scared. I remember getting on the bus, my little head barley tall enough to be seen from the windows outside. I sat alone at the front of the bus.

            Later that same day we had ‘play time’ where we stayed inside and played with the little kitchen set or blocks in the classroom. I remember approaching a small round table perfect for my size. The table was decorated with a red and white checkered table cloth and fake food. This table was intriguing to me and a little blond girl named Kirsten. Quickly she became my best friend. When we got on the bus that afternoon, I no longer had to sit alone. Kirsten now sat right beside me.

            At the end of the year I moved, and was going to start a new school without Kirsten. Once again I was scared and thought I would have a hard time making friends. When I got to the open house to meet my teacher, I saw the little blond girl walking towards me. I was so happy to see her. Our parents started talking and we found out we only lived a block away from each other. Hearing that made our tiny brains go crazy with excitement. I could tell by looking at her excited face that this was the start of a long friendship.

           

            I’m now a junior in high school. Kirsten and I no longer live a block away from each other, and we don’t have any classes together. But we’re still the best of friends. I find that so amazing because it’s been 12 years… 12 years, even through high school, where friendships come to die. 12 years our friendship has lasted and 12 more years are to come. And honestly, at the end of the day that’s all that really matters, friendship, and I’m so glad I have someone like her to call my best friend. So thank you Kirsten. You’ve helped me find who I am. And that’s the best thing anyone can do for some one.