Childhood Friends

Two years afterward, I went to nursery school. I was supposed to go to school when I turn four years old -- I blame my dad for this. When I first came to school, I was with my dad, clinging to him tight; I was scared to death. I thought my dad was going to sell me off to some landlady with many other children. Well, I got over it soon. I became friends with the kindergarten kids and those children who were the same as my grade. I thought I would be with the kindergarten kids because we were in the same classroom for almost six months, but I was wrong. They went ahead to kindergarten.

Around this age of 4-5, was where my mind also began to change. Typically, a child's brain mends a little later. I saw them with their parents. I saw them with their mother; I saw them with their father. My father barely comes to my graduations and festivals; my sister was the only one who would attend. I couldn't exactly remember, but my sister told me that I said, "I don't have a mother. She was never here." A child to say such a thing was horrifying that I wished I didn't remember or imagine—God, how I remembered feeling so sad and lonely without a mother there for me. I wouldn't say I liked it. I loathed it. Did you get the point? I got an early start; my mind matured with negative thoughts. Though, I didn't let that bother me, for now.

.

.

.

I met many friends and a foe! This foe's name was Kiana, we have the same birthday, the same friends, the same neighborhood, and we were foes –for the time being, and of course, I won all our fights. We became friends after another 3 to 4 months after because we were children with dumb minds – I made her cry all the time because all of my classmates were at my side, and she was left out. When our kindergarten teacher noticed and said, "Why are you fighting? Join Kiana, children." I laughed when I remembered all of my friends hesitated for a while and went and joined her. I was about to cry when I decided to befriend her. Ah, the good times.

Although Kiana wasn't my best friend, we're friends. Jade was my best friend, and her dad was my dad's friend, and her mom was somewhere far away. How cool is that? We have a lot in common, well, except for me being chubby and her being an ideal child. There was my cousin Steve, a year younger than me probably. I would not bother naming everyone I knew, but you know what I mean, I have a LOT of friends. But there was Imman, a comrade of liking games and anime. Imman could get weird and pitiful like a puppy most of the time, and it annoys me; he's a good friend but weird – I bully him sometimes because it's fun, and he's annoying. Many get annoyed by him, too; I never thought he would learn Karate after I left. And there was a time when I remember that I stole thousands of pesos from my dad's moneybox full of 10 pesos coins in it because I wanted to go to a computer shop after to play with my friends! I have sinned, and it was worth the experience.

.

.

.

There wasn't a moment when I didn't remember that I had a crush from a man who was four times my age working under my dad's and my cousin's dad's company when I was 6-7 years old, 1st grade. I was a kid, and crushing on an ancient man was way off the hook. My sister laughed when I told her this story; I regretted telling her that and telling my cousin, Steven.

I may be rushing things with this story; As a high school student writing my life from scratch (not really), it's to be expected I forgot most of it. And could you believe that by the time I got to 3rd grade, my fo-ex-foe wanted to become foes again! She said, "Hey sis," My friends used to call me that since kindergarten because Steve always greets me 'sis,'

"Do you remember that time when we fought back in kindergarten?"

"Yeah, that was hilarious." I laughed.

"How about we do this," she offered.

"Do what?"

"Next year, we become foes, and next, next year, we become friends. How about that?"

"No thanks," I quickly said, "Why would we. We are already friends. We took a hell amount of time to become friends, and you want to ruin it now?"

"Well, no-"

"Then, that's it."