Ex Nihilo

Whether humans are born a blank slate or with innate ideas and traits becomes redundant once faced with life’s immediate possibilities. Instantly entering the world, I was left homeless and without a family. My birth mother’s decision to hand her little newborn off to strangers will always remain debatable. She did not leave a family heirloom in the palm of my crinkled hand or a heartfelt letter to explain why I was no longer allowed to be a part of her family. Instead I was thrown into an overcrowded orphanage and forced to share time, space, and resources with thousands of other nameless children. Although, by fate’s hand, I was given a chance the other thousands of Chinese orphans would only dream about. In the early 2000s, being adopted in China was similar to winning the lottery. One random ticket collecting dust in a greasy gas station shelf could be the lucky shot thousands of children need. When I turned one year old, I was fortunately adopted and tucked into an affluent home in a white community. A couple took my cradled body and flew me across the world and into a small suburban neighborhood. My two Caucasian parents provided an abundant amount of resources and opportunities for me to enjoy. I became healthier once I was able to live in an open house with a clean-living space. The best gift of all was a mother and father who could physically and emotionally engage with me. I was being raised by parents who chose to love me for the first time in my life- and yet, I would not realize this until many years later. Even though my life was full of comfort and warmth, my mind could not feel any of which they surrounded me in. I starved for a love I already had and felt deprived of an environment in which I was lucky to spend my childhood. It was as if the faint, yet nonexistent ghost of my origins could not seem to fade away. Flying 7,300 miles away was still not far enough to rid of the mental isolation of which I was raised. Surrounded by bountiful toys and delicious food could not fill in the gaps in my memory of who I am and why I felt so fallacious.

Starting off kindergarten in August of 2005, I was a shy Asian kid walking into an old school building that had yet to meet the modern world. I was enrolled into a Catholic Elementary School where the grade size never went above thirty students. I never spoke a word and never made a complaint. I never raised my hand to tell Ms. Capazella my name nor that my favorite color is red. Even when blood began gushing out of my nose like a cracked dam without anywhere to go, I refused to speak up. It was not until Ms. Gibbons noticed my messy head sprawled across my desk. I made the mistake of looking up at her calling my name and to her horror, the red blood soaked into the lower half of my baby face. The stains coated my homework and the rest of the wooden desk as well. Needless to say, I refused to speak to anyone about anything due to an extreme build up in insecurity and a lack of self-esteem. Although, despite my stubborn guidelines, towards the middle of first grade, I decided to test the waters. During recess, normally I was sitting around or killing time by myself. Never around the swing sets, the muddy field of grass or in the middle of the courts. Being located anywhere near a populated area was too much for me to handle. I always twiddled my thumbs around the walls of the shed or behind the equipment building. I was content, whether I sang Dora the Explorer to myself or made conversations with the bountiful dandelions. The second bend in my story was halfway across the smoking asphalt playground. The red-headed boy whose hair matched his fiery personality was playing a make-believe fantasy game called Pokémon. Without a care in the world, the scrawny kid laughed and ran all across his spot on the hill.

Just above the small bridge of grass separating the asphalt courtyard and the playground mulch was the red-haired freckled boy having the time of his life. His name was Matthew and he was the best and worst person I will come to know. Approaching Matthew was difficult and very out of character. Up to that moment, I had never been able to conjure up an explanation as to what drew me to the boy on the hill. Befriending the similarly antisocial kid was difficult. It took several requests to let me join him in his fantasy game. I discovered even though he was apathetic to what the rest of the world thought about his joys, Matthew was extremely introverted. He lacked so much care of everything outside of him; he grew egotistical. Although at the time, all I could see was a master of everything. He was above me in all skills and fields. He was smarter in every subject and had an artistic talent that exceeded anything I could attempt. Due to this innocent judgment, instead of hanging out with him as an equal, we both mutually decided I was to be his pupil. In laymen’s terms, I fetched his items, carried his bookbag, complimented his attributes, and in return, he bestowed his knowledge to me. I always sacrificed my happiness to bring a smile on his face. In this way, friendship was about sacrifice and misery rather than laughter and merriment. Throughout the years, I allowed him to demote my position, knock me around with his bony shins and hard hands. I accepted it all with joy because I believed this was the right thing to do. I refused to be anywhere near selfish and dare to grant myself an ounce of comfort. People always wondered why I put myself through this unnecessary torment. Through all the backbreaking stress, the hurt was worth every ounce of confidence I gave him. The sorrow was worth the smile or laugh Matthew would bellow out. My lack of self esteem seemed worth it because that is the knowledge he taught me. Because sadness equated to friendship, I believed it was the correct thing to do. Matthew was my best and only friend with whom I shared secrets and stories. We slept over at each other’s houses and dueled each other with giant tree branches found in his backyard. I gave him the world and I know he would never return the favor. And yet, I will always be grateful for every bruise he delivered and every joke he enjoyed.

Entering the seventh grade, I was still attending the same Catholic school. Except for this year, I moved into the middle-high school building located ten minutes away from the elementary one. Similar to any other twelve-year-old, I hated myself more than my taste buds rejecting leafy greens. My five-foot friend, Matthew, did not assist me in any way. Never have I felt more alone in my short-lived life. It was not until the summer months that I stumbled onto a creative building game called Minecraft would I find a group of kids who would include me in their circle. The group consisted of Rosie, Charles, and Ryan. All three had been friends from the womb sticking together like Lewis and Clark (and Sacagawea). Rosie and I connected the most at the time. The lioness haired eleven-year-old and I shared many similarities in our sense of humor and life goals. We shared our deepest secrets consisting of bloody messes to dreadful conversations. We shared the entire night together gossiping about our comparably dry and lonely days to writing horror novels I would be too afraid to read. Rosie and I were closer than anyone else she had known- including her childhood friends. Charles was the high-pitched gay best friend everyone needed but never had. He always seemed to need to add a sassy remark to a genuine comment or question. Sometimes he used his imaginary ego to disguise from the outside frustrations. It took a longer time getting comfortable around the tall brunette. Sometimes when he felt left out or insecure, Charles would become malicious for the sake of saving face. Fortunately, he grew out of this phase and became kinder and more empathetic. He developed his personality to become less bothered to more patient and understanding. Charles still has a passionate fuel for disagreeable situations- but this new person takes into considerations different perspectives. Lastly, there was shaggy-haired Ryan. His black shoulder-length hair fit well to his sculptured sun-kissed face. Although his good-looking features immediately became his only positive attribute once he opened his mouth. Ryan was known for lashing out verbally against any and all pretense he found upsetting- this was often. Finding a genuinely happy boy inside his cold heart was a miracle the three of us rarely had the pleasure to experience. Even with his grumpy attitude and painful words he dished out on the regular, I continuously cherish him every day. Because even though a few tears have trickled outside my eye’s barrier, he played a huge part in teaching me what it means to be a friend. Ryan was the catalyst who brought my sense to the surface.

All three of these tweens whom I found on an online multiplayer game became the factor in my life to change my environment. They exposed the truth behind Matthew’s personality. They unveiled the centerpiece of fresh fruits as a basket of rotten and spoiled produce. My entire understanding of “friend” was destroyed by their actions. Rosie treated me as an equal and with respect. She taught me it was okay to ask questions and value myself. I am allowed to have fun and enjoy the time spent together with others. Charles taught me independence and freedom should never be smothered by anything else. He showed me that friends can have different opinions and are allowed to disagree. And Ryan, through all his faults, forced me to know I am just as important as the next person. Ryan pounded a spine into my back and gave me a life I had never lived. The four of us have gone through several rough patches and we no longer communicate as much anymore. Although I am depressed by this fact, I know that I will be okay. I am confident that they will always be there for me during tough times or existential crises. Like mothers teaching their toddlers how to stand up and walk on their squishy wobbly legs, they taught me how to stand proudly on my own. Children may grow up and leave the house, but family is always a call away.

By the end of my sophomore year, I had just turned the sweet sixteen. I was absolutely disgusted to continue my education at the Catholic School I had been raised. I could no longer stand walking through the clean hallways that reflected off lockers and shoes. I was done being the shy kid who always sat in the far corner of the classroom. I wanted friends to talk to and a person who was truly interested in conversing with me. My Catholic School was a toxic environment to the lonesome teenager without any cliques or circles. At that point, I knew the way Matthew treated me was not kindly; I also knew I could not just ditch him in the dust. He was the only person who would interact with me- even if it was on his terms. I was already drowning in isolation and as Matthew was my only social intake- I needed to drink the Kool-Aid. Until he flew away. Over summer of 2016, Matthew had just moved to the State of Vermont. My one and only childhood friend had just left me without much warning. Thrown to the wolves of teenagers to fend off the rest by myself. After realizing there was no future for me at this school, I decided to turn towards a unique type of education system. The kind that deserves the respect it does not receive. No longer would I be swallowing useless information and regurgitating it for tests. I would be enrolled in a vocational high school called Buckeye Career Center. Starting in Fall of 2016, I entered into their Law Enforcement program. I was not interested in beginning a path as an officer or public servant, which justified the reasons my family, classmates, and acquaintances doubted I would finish the program. This was a school where I could start anew without any strings attached from my past life at my Catholic school. I did not need to worry about being perceived as too different from my normal posture. Unsurprisingly, making friends in my program took a few of weeks. I was not suave or charismatic or athletic. My whole demeanor shrieked “Floral Design” rather than “State Trooper.” During this survival of the fittest period, I used my strength in humor which I did not know I had. I self-deprecated myself and played fun with all my obviously fruitless qualities. I was the five foot one “twelve-year-old” in a heavy-duty profession. I was the 100-pound kid who was afraid of the dark. I was the only Asian student in the entire technical school. Needless to say, I had a lot of material to use. Not many people could make fun of themselves in a large group. I loved enhancing my faults for the laughter of others. I was confident enough to be able to tell jokes without the expense of my own feelings. I had crossed the fence to the other side and found a life of popularity. Instead of being the student to dissect the science frog by himself, I was the schoolboy whom people wanted as a partner. I did not have the muscles of half my class or the desire to pursue a government job. What I had was better for my own sanity: I could make rememberable and respectable relationships. During the hustle and bustle of switching schools two years before graduation, two classmates decided to take me under their wing. The Honduran seventeen-year-olds who shared little to no similarities with me took a chance with the funny boned Asian. The fat head with slick black hair was Isaac. To this day, he has been one of the smartest people I know who brand a 1.9 GPA proudly. He was the typical gamer teenager who refused to apply himself in a broken education system. Even though his handwriting mimicked that of a toddler writing with a smashed crayon, he could support heavy and philosophical topics. He is always selfless and generous without realizing it. The brown-skinned boy worked hard to sustain his relationship with his family and his long-distance girlfriend. Isaac is certainly proud and unabashed by anything. He has his head in the right place when it comes to indifference towards others’ opinions based on surface level ideals. Gabriel, in contrast, has a smaller head to his larger stature. He remains the most standup man in the sea of high schoolers. Coming up from an underprivileged home, Gabe had to grow up faster than I or Isaac ever have. Gabe is full of care, even if he can be a tad airheaded. He was the one who invited me over to his circle of close-knit friends. I will always be grateful for his extroverted ways and openness to new situations. Both of these men had a sense of humor far surpassed from the normal corny gag or overused pun. They were loud and obnoxious but never wavered from their true selves. Whether they were upset or confused, people could count on hearing their opinion about whatever it may be. The two blind mice were missing their third musketeer. This time, instead of trading away my freedom for friendship, they provided me with the whole package. Isaac and Gabe were the final proof I needed to confirm I was supporting myself on my own two feet. I was happy to have my own independence to make my own decisions without fear of regret. I no longer needed to wary over whose feelings I may have hurt or if my choices would lead me to be maltreated. They accepted all my flaws and faults with more than tolerance, but with acceptance.

People all have the same beginning and the same end story. Everyone needs to be born in order to live, and where there is life- death must follow. It is nature’s one true rule that must never be forgotten or overlooked. The seven billion humans on this planet were raised from wombs and will take their last breath one day. The cause of birth and death are swiftly dismissed as each new second passes every one of us. The differences begin to divide once our placenta covered bodies enter the open world and every single spider web of karma hits our baby frames and sends us off to the races. The man who asked for spare change two months ago has already changed the course of history. The mother who rejected ten different daycare centers to opt for a stay at home job will impact her unspecified future. It is impossible to be truly standing still. The hardships I experienced in my childhood and every single connection I created were preparing me for this day and so forth. I had become a punching bag for Matthew, allowed constant ridicule from Ryan, and ignored my drifting friendship from my best friend Rosie to omit me from her life. I was too disengaged with Charles regarding anything personal and struggled to practice the equality of a friendship with my close friends Isaac and Gabe. Throughout this whole inferno, I am more than hopeful all these lessons I have collected have given me the greatest gift of all: I am where I am supposed to be. Therefore, when answering the question of who I am: I am my past, my present, and my future. All influenced by my environment and the choices every single person makes.