Change

I knew, from the second day of 5th grade, I didnt want to change. That was the day I met the only person who liked me for who I was, not what I looked like on the outside. That was the day I was no longer an outcast, the fat kid noone wanted anything to do with. That very first recess, we became best friends. He taught me to care less about what people think. He gave up his chance at early popularity to bring me up to the middle tier. He gave me a reason to be happy, really happy for the first time in a long time, perhaps ever. It was that first taste of belonging. It was that day we promised each other, we would not change, because we were awesome the way we were. We were Brothers.

Years pass, and as they do, I watch the people around me change. I watch as devoted and caring boyfriends become abusive and self-centered. I watch as girls my age go from flirty and care-free to having 1, 2, 3 kids and no future. I watch as my own family becomes more and more distant. Worst of all, I watch as my Brother, slowly, slowly, becomes more distant to me.

Eventually, I fell into a real bad place. Having exhausted all the people I called my friends, I turned to him, my Brother, for support. Just after my delusions broke, I told him about what happened, about Alani, about the delusions. He was the only one I thought would understand what happened. After I told him, he did the one thing I thought he could never do. He did what everyone else I told about it did. He, my Brother, branded me a liar and stopped speaking to me.

If I was broken before, that scattered, even destroyed the pieces of who I was.

It was at this point I created my Face, to mimmic all the missing pieces.