I remember being a one year old.

This is usually the phrase I prefer to start off with when it comes to my story. I state it because I believe it’s a good preface and sets the standard for the receiver of my information to understand that I am in no way, shape or form a regular person. I am superhuman, whether that makes me a cool intelligent Spiderman or a strange quirky X-men. I remember many things that people are meant to forget and forget many things that other people remember. Compare me to a computer that gets software updates and then no longer can function with older websites, even though in truth I hate scheduled technical computer related updates. Call me an oxymoron, but I am still trying to learn how much space I had built into my programming. Simultaneously, though, I consistently try to clean up and delete old info and actions that I no longer appreciate.

I am a curated collectible. An unfinished masterpiece. A delightful and interesting meal that never tastes the same. Nearly narcissistic at times, but thoughtfully working through it. I would like to say more, but I don’t know how many parameters I should make for this first article. I love the sound of my typing but I swear I was faster as a preteen. My little tiny hands glazed over keys like a magical piano composer, I could have been in the courts as a type writer.

Anywho, at one year old I believed that people were so odd and fragmented. They always seemed uncomfortable and inconsistent to me. I grew up around many adults who didn't seem to truly like themselves in my opinion, although I thought I was pretty amazing, I could tell they didn't feel the same about themselves. That bothered me a bit, but somehow as “maturity” was forced upon me, it became me. I understood a lot of concepts that I knew the adults around me would not believe if I had the verbal ability to explain all the things I knew. But it was like an inherent knowing. So many things were. And so I played in to the pieces of everyone that I could tell they were missing.

I became the missing links in whatever way I could. And I was tiny by the way, so much smaller than everyone but I still tried to feel these holes in the adults and children around me. If they needed to be stronger, I would show them where they needed strengthening. If they needed to be softer, I would show them the ways to soften themselves. Confidence? I showed them how confident I was in myself. And it worked, everyone always left with a little more honesty, self reliance or growth. I named many younger family members. I created many games. I drew pictures. I choreographed dances. I tested well at school and scored as gifted. But all the while I didn’t even realize that the same things I did for others was being done to me. I was being shaped, molded, sifted and shifted into a person. Not necessarily an individual.

I use to describe myself as unique. Unaware that unique isn’t always celebrated, and society doesn't have a curriculum for unique. And it was odd to see that sometimes I was seen as divergent because of my unique perspectives and unknowingly noncompliant nature. Times changed, and changed, and changed again. And I never felt like I should go with the flow, I always did the things that not many people around me did and knew things that not many people knew. It was just the way I was. The way I am. But where do I go from there? From realizing I was never a regular puzzle piece. It lead me to this. Writing. Revisiting the past. Composing the story of the beginning of my becoming.

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