Nothing matters. It hasn't for me, not for a while. For me, when I ask, "If I died tomorrow," I'm not wondering how other's react. I know the world wouldn't care; honestly, neither do I. In this endless monotony that we call life, there's only two things that keep me alive.
My friends and family. Without their caring, I'd be long gone, without a doubt. Snuffed out, either by my hand or another. Without my friends and family, the only ones able to see past my many faults and accept me for who I am, I'd have given up a long time ago. Friendship is so important to me, I cannot even begin to explain it and give it justice. The hokey shows that embellish friendship (MLP, Naruto, really any kids show ever), while cheesy, are ones I'm drawn to. Even shows where friendship isn't the main point, but a good plot device (Psych, House, really any show ever), I learn from. Whenever Shawn Spencer, when asked what he'd do for his friend Gus, says, "I'd take a bullet for him," I agree whole heartily.
But, why? What is friendship; why is it so important? Is it magic, like they say in MLP? Or is there science behind it? Friendship is so important to me that I went through my life's events and found what I felt were the makings of true friendship and the most important features. Then, I described them through writing. This is what I've found; the chronicle of what I believe makes friendship:
Fate
I was born in a hospital in the town of Hartford, Connecticut in the United States on March 18th, 1996, around 1 AM. For my parents, I was their second son; a new little burden to love for taking from them. For my family, I was another face they would never get to truly know, but were obligated to love and jumped at the opportunity. For the world, I didn't matter; I was just another one of the 7 billion, floating through the world, taking without truly giving, crying out for equality when he's done nothing to deserve it.
For me, it was the beginning of a giant adventure (misadventure may be more fitting) through the world. I'd learn new things, I'd grow and experience, I'd be crushed, hurt, damaged, and would most likely come out of it doing nothing important, growing to be infamously hated, and contributing nothing. And I was given two gifts to begin. My sword and shield.
My shield was a disorder that was lodged in my brain called PDD, or Pervasive Developmental Disorder. A type of autism that would set me apart from all the others, that would shape who I'd become, that would let me coat through it and be spoiled when all I did was be born with an inability to understand society. But, while it could easily protect me, it could be used against me as well. It was a dented piece of work that, with one (or many, as the case turned out to be) good strikes, could break and consequently kill me. And, because I always carried it, I became a target; a lone weirdo people recognized as different, and wished to snuff out because of it. The world would look upon me differently, and fight me for it, and I needed to learn to hold my own.
It wasn't until kindergarten that I found out what my sword was. Once I did, I fell in love with it, and took the metal I was given to forge it even stronger. What I wasn't expecting, however, was that the metal I was given was something everyone got, and mine just so happened to be the beginning of a concept I'd find as the most important.
My sword was friendship, and the metal I was given was just a few numbers and words.
Knowledge
Of course, nothing important happened between when I was born and when I turned 5. Once I was 5, however, began my trek of learning about society. It'd be a long and arduous one, and I'd despise almost every second of it; except when I got it right.
I was finally old enough to go to kindergarten. My first day technically began, however, before school did. My parents were very busy people, still are to this day. My dad, an important actuary and the biggest firm in the state of Connecticut, worked from 6 in the morning to 5 at night; my mom was a night nurse who got so little sleep that she had to sleep in the day. I wasn't old enough to get to the bus myself, and my parents couldn't drive me. But there was a solution.
There was a day care center in town called Castle. It was a fun place; computer and board games, a fun outdoor playground (I loved playgrounds back then), nice staff and mostly nice staff. I stayed there until 5th grade, and I loved going there. But that place is important not just for it's usage. It was more important to me than just the place my parents could drop me off so it made their lives easier. It was more important to me than just a place I could have fun.
It was where I met my first and one of my most important friends.
His name was Tyler. He was average height, with messy blonde hair and a fit shape. He might have been considered handsome if I, you know, saw beauty in anything. It was because of how we became friends that I learned the importance of fate. Our reason for being friends was ludicrously stupid, yet I still consider him one of my greatest friends.
When people think of best friends, they tend to romanticize the process. It's believed it's like a story; two people meet and, through their adventures, become closer than you could ever imagine. Their reason for being friends is chosen by fate, they're so significant to each other because of this that they become inseparable.
Here's mine and Tyler's reason for being friends:
Tyler: Hey, can I sit here?
Me: Sure.
Tyler: This your first year here too?
Me: Yup.
Tyler: When's your birthday?
Me: March 18th.
Tyler: OMG NO WAY THAT'S MY BIRTHDAY TOO!
Bam. Friendship material right there. Think I can get an award for the story?
All joking aside, it's a weird concept to me, having Tyler become my friend over sharing a birthday. I mean, it's not like we could control when we were born, yet this single fact made us feel connected. It's why he felt fine with having me as a friend, and why he accepted me, though I was definitely hard to get along with. I was awkward, I was spazzy, I was annoying as all hell. ... Still am, in a way. Yet, Tyler decided to accept me. And I accepted him. We didn't try to change each other, and we didn't get too pissy at each other (at least, Tyler never got pissy at me).
Tyler accepted my craziness, like all my other friends did. We were friends for a long time, until 5th grade, when he moved. We were inseparable, all over our birthdays. He'd be the first for a long time to always accept me when my life was being attacked. I looked up to him like the brother I always wanted (because mine was too busy getting annoyed with me over the shit I pulled). He taught me so much about the world, accepted my bullshit, and always cared.
But, remembering him now, I realize that I hadn't learned how to be a good friend yet. I wasn't treating him like a friend; I was treating him like a toy. He was entertainment in human form for me. He would listen to my problems, he would care for my problems, and what did I do in return? I simply used him to have fun; I never listened to his problems, never tried to get to know him, simply played games with him, and that's all he was. Someone to play games with.
What color were his eyes? What religion was he? What was his favorite conversation topic? I didn't know the answer to any of these. Sure, none of it is important to being good friends, but, after knowing your friend from when you were 5 to when you were 12, spending uncountable amounts of time together, you'd think you'd learn this stuff. I hadn't learned how important it is to learn about your friends. I simply used him; when he had a problem, I didn't hear it. When he asked me what I wanted to do, I never asked him in return. When his parents got divorced and he moved to Cromwell, I never saw it coming.
Yet, with all my mistreatings, he accepted me. That's why he's so important to me, and why I hope he's having a wonderful life without me. Once he moved, we fell out of contact, and I miss him. Though he was the start of a problematic journey, I never shoot the messenger, especially if I invited the messenger in for coffee. I will miss him, and I owe it to him that I learned all I did. I just wish that I had learned more about friendship before I met him so I could pay him back. I wish I had had the knowledge to learn about him and the kindness to care enough to listen, like he had for me. I regret being so stupid when it came to friendship at the time, and wish he could see how far I've come.
My social stupidity would begin being a problem in 1st grade. That's where I met my first bully.
Acceptance
I was in a special 1st grade class. It was a cross where people from 1st and 2nd grade were in the same class. It was the envy of all the other 1st graders, which is kind of funny, because, looking back on it, I think it was called "special" because it was for special education kids. I've been placed in many of these types of classes because of my autism, which is odd, because it's so borderline that I don't need the classes.
Nonetheless, here I was, in a special class, where 1st and 2nd graders work together to not do anything at all. I don't think we really learned anything important in that time period. We simply played and occasionally went further into detail on things we learned in kindergarten. The only thing we learned then that may have been important was Morse code... and I was absent that day, so I never learned it. We just played all day, like kids tend to do.
Since Tyler was not a special kid, I was alone in that class and needed a new friend. The 1st and 2nd graders were paired together as "buddies," but my buddy didn't like chocolate and preferred yogurt which I hated (and still do), which is a friendship deal breaker, right? RIGHT?!? So, I was out looking for a new friend to hang out with, and I thought I found one in a kid who I believe was named Alex (I forgot his name). He was a bit like me, and he seemed interesting, so we became friends.
Here's how it went:
Me: Hey, want to be friends?
Alex: Sure.
Think I can sell the movie rights for that? Bet I'll win an Oscar.
And, so, me and Alex became friends... for a day. The next day, I came in to find Alex, who told me we were no longer friends.
I was devastated. It was the first time I had lost a friend! I thought we'd be such great friends, and... Oh, wait, the next day he said I
was his friend. ... Then the next, he said I wasn't. Then he said I was, then wasn't, then was, then wasn't, ad infinium, this is getting old. My young, socially awkward mind couldn't handle this abuse. It was crushing me and making me sad each time he said I wasn't his friend anymore... for the first few times. After a while, it became a stupid ritual of him simply badgering me. I didn't care anymore if he was my friend or not; he had proven to be a bad choice. Yet, he continued.
He was the first bully of many I would encounter. He was the first person of many I would release my true, calm anger at. He was the first of many jerks whom I would use my number one defense mechanism against; getting help. After telling the teacher, he stopped, and I became a loner in the class. I didn't feel like trying to be friends with people anymore. I just wanted to enjoy myself. I still had Tyler and Castle; I'd be fine. But, still, not being accepted would be a problem I'd have for a long time. It would sting me until I got to Middle School, and bullies would plague me until Sophomore year of High School. Bullies became my plight, the only bad thing in my life, one that I would stop at nothing to stop.
Yet, even I, at one point, was a bully.
Kindness
It was 4th grade, and I rode the bus like normal. It was around this time that I had begun riding the bus to school rather than the 5 minute bus ride from Castle to school (yes, even back then, I was very good at calculating and remembering time limits and parts of routine). This was when me and buses started to... disagree a bit. For some reason, it seemed like the enclosed spaces made people bigger jerks than normal. Back then, my biggest problem was an older kid named Keith. He insulted me, treated me like dirt, got me in trouble over stupid things. One time, he got me in trouble because I, in my boredom, was saying "fog" over and over again. He lied, saying I was saying "fuck" over and over, and I got written up. Yeah, it was 4th grade, stuff like that happened.
I was tired of being treated like crap, and I was trying to fit in. There was a kid named David on our bus that Keith and his gang were picking on. For the first time in my life, because I was so sick of being bullied, I myself became a bully.
A problem I have is that I repeat things too much. My social motto tends to be, "If it works, do it again." If a joke made people laugh, tell it again later. Usually, when I did it, I overdid it, and it became old quickly. Still do that, but I'm better at it. I know when to stop.
Back then, however, I didn't. I continued off of everything Keith said, like a stereotypical lackey who takes a joke a boss said, repeats it, then laughs like a hyena. I was tearing David apart with stupid repeats of insults like I was a skipping record. I guess he had finally had enough.
I remember this scene perfectly. Keith had just called David stupid. I was pointing at him and saying, "Yeah, he is stupid, isn't he? Huh, huh?" Yeah, I was really stupid back then myself. I looked away from David, at Keith, hoping for approval. Though I couldn't see it then (cause I sucked at reading emotions), Keith was obviously sick of my shit. After a moment of silence, I turned back to David.
That's when his fist met my eye. I think their friendship was good, though it didn't last very long. I know my eye was devastated; it left a mark on it. It hurt. A lot. It was the first, and only, personal physical assault I've experienced.
Next, I was at the front of the bus. I don't remember how I got there. I was just sitting, my head down, crying. But I wasn't crying about being hit. I was scared; it was my fault I was punched. If I wasn't bullying, I wouldn't be hit. I deserved it, and I would get in trouble if I told on David. That's why I didn't. But you can't hide a black eye, and crying right behind the bus driver wasn't the best move if I didn't want to be noticed. The driver told the principal. The incident was looked in to, and, one day later, I was brought to the office to talk about it.
That's when I was thoroughly surprised. All David had to do to not get a severe punishment was tell them I had been bullying him. Then the punishment would be split between the two of us. But, he didn't mention it. He took all the blame. I was let off scotch free (or however the saying goes) while he got detention. It should have been the other way around. When I left, I noticed something else I remember to this day. I can't be sure, but I think I saw David smile at me when I left.
I was bullying, and I didn't get in trouble for it. Instead, the person who I was bullying took all the blame, presumably from guilt of him punching me. Most kids would probably take this as a sign of "bullying is OK." Not me. I felt indebted to David. That day forth, I decided to never bully again.
We didn't become friends, David and I. He probably grew to hate me. I grew to respect him and be thankful to him for punching me; I would probably be a bully today if he hadn't. I can't imagine what I would be like with my friends, insulting them and treating them like crap when I should have the kindness to treat them like I do now. Who knows; if he hadn't punched me, maybe I'd even get into more fights and be hit more, and not learn from them. I can't help but feel like this one action against me helped make me the person I am now; who actually cares about his friends. And I will always be grateful for that.
Tolerance
Middle school wasn't a friendship teaching experience, but, instead, a bully ending one. It was here where my bully problem reached its biggest extreme, where people became the most intolerable of me. In the hallways, people pushed me. In classes, people insulted me. I was suspended once because I had threatened to kill some people and myself because they were bullying me and almost suspended again because someone asked me if I had a hit list, then, when I jokingly said yes, continuely asked who was on it, then called the police on me when I said repeatedly, "No one, it was a joke." Like an outcast in a movie, people began throwing rocks at me when I walked to the Youth Center in town. I found myself crying and wondering why I was alive more than ever before.
But, as these attacks continued, I stopped caring. Each time an insult was told, each time someone attacked me, each time a rock hit me in the back of my head, I cried less, I cared less, and became more apathetic. In the end, I started thinking, "If it happens, let it; I can handle it." And, in all honesty, I could. I became tolerant of their intolerance, took it as part of myself and embraced it. I identified myself as the outsider, the one everyone loved to hate.
And I survived until High School. I wasn't excited for it; if it was anything like Middle School, it would be shit. Freshman year was like middle school; people hadn't grown up and were still acting like little shits. At this point, though, after making a kid cry by deconstructing him and going to the office repeatedly to complain about bullies and just have them handle it, people were a bit more weary of me. Bullying went down, and, by Sophomore year, there were only 2 bullies left; one I had to go to the office repeatedly to make him stop and one I could handle, because he wasn't very good at bullying. Now, in Junior year, no one treats me badly, and I'm happy for once.
Of course, with these new schools came new friends. Ones to replace my old best friend, who I wasn't in contact with any more, and his friends, almost all of which left. I grew a group of friends who I could always talk to.
Among these friends, there's one I feel is very noteworthy. His name is Andrew. I met him in Sophomore year when another friend of mine (also named Andrew), introduced us. In order to avoid confusion, I'll call the Andrew who introduced us ARF and the other Andrew AYB (
).
Here's how it went:
ARF: AYB, meet my friend *name removed*. *Name removed*, meet my friend AYB.
Shortest one of all.
Yet, still one of the most meaningful. We started talking during lunch to not be bored, and soon we were close friends. Within a year, we were going over each other's houses, and, within two, he was easily my best friend. One of the quickest growing friendships I've ever had. He was a lot like me, personality wise; preferring science or philosophy over stupid stuff for conversations, enjoying weird, not-well-known stuff, generally being a strange person. We got along great, and we taught each other a lot.
And he also introduced me to a special place I could go, and would become addicted to quickly.
Community
It was during the summer. I was over Andrew's house for the first time, and we were up in his room watching random YouTube videos. He had a strange affinity for Gary's Mod videos, especially ones with a show called My Little Pony in it. I, of course, had heard of MLP and it's community known as the Bronies. I had never thought they were a thing, though. I just thought they were a bunch of kids who thought it was funny to say they liked something people didn't, which is how I viewed Justin Bieber and Rebecca Black fans as well.
That was before I knew the show had a story. Once I knew that, I went home, watched it, and loved it. The show was awesome; it was interesting, had well developed characters (for the most part), and I thoroughly fell in love with it. It was refreshing, watching a kids show. I started making references, I told all my friends about it, and they started watching it (and loving it) too.
However, I didn't count myself as part of the Brony community. You see, I didn't follow the fan base (listen to music, watch videos, follow news, etc.), and felt like that meant I was not part of it. Never did I think I would do anything pony related besides watch the show.
Then, Andrew introduced me to a site called Friendship is Magic. It was a forum where people talked to each other through a shout box. At first, I was dubious; I hated social networking and didn't think it would be fun. Then, one day, I decided to join it. I made my user name Justice (after some technical difficulties) and dived in to the community head first. I set Andrew's account, @
AYBfim, as my referrer and my first friend, the first of many I would make.
I fell in love with the shout box. Talking to people through text where I could say almost anything, people with differing and interesting personalities, it was like a meeting of the minds where I was always welcome. But, I wasn't comfortable there with posting any threads. I felt like no one would care, because I knew nothing of the fandom and had no real interesting topics I felt I could bring up. All I could do was write, and I couldn't really write anything MLP related.
I still enjoyed talking there, though. To my dismay, however, 2 weeks after I joined, the site went down. I couldn't take it. I had so much fun there that I had to tide myself over. So, I asked Andrew if there were other sites. There was. He referred me to a site known as Equestria Forever.
That's where I truly began to feel like part of a community. The shout box was a bit slower, but each person was more interesting, each line of conversation was more enjoyable, the emotes were more fun; everything made me feel more at home, like people cared. And they really did seem to. If I talked, people listened, even if they forgot about it a second later. And no one was trying to hurt me. No rocks were thrown, no insults were shared (too much), and, the best part, if someone was annoying me, I could ignore them and avoid problems. Out of the 40-50 some odd people I saw in the shout box, only 2 of them I felt warranted ignoring.
I began posting in the forum. Sharing my writings, my ideas, my thoughts. People read what I wrote, and some even cared. It was a feeling I had never felt before; I had a whole community of friends I could talk to, simply because I had reached out and tried to find them. For the first time in my entire life, there was a community, a society in itself that I belonged to, that I cared about.
That I was friends with, and would always care about, as long as it existed.
Originally Posted by Murdoc
Because you were the Chilean princess c:
Yeah, this'll be fun. Let's get this started.
The fictions are wonderful as well, I'm happy to have read through them.
To deny this entry would be complete bull.
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Chaos is found in greatest abundance wherever order is being sought. It always defeats order, because it is better organized.
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