In year 7, I felt like I had friends. I thought I fit in for the first time, despite not being everyone’s favourite person, I got on with a few and had fun times. At the start of the year, I spoke before Grades 5-7 to put myself forward for the vote for school captain. I wasn’t chosen, and was happy anyway. I thought I heard a teacher say someone only got 6 votes. I was ashamed because I believed it was me. I told some of the group in my year, and decided not to worry about it again. It was a relatively good year, although we lost a classmate and her family to domestic violence which was really hard, especially on her closest friends. I remember so many people from that year so clearly as we were then. Amidst everything, the sorrow and loss and confusion and celebration mixing into our final year of primary school, I felt more at home and accepted among the year 7 class than I had been ever in my life, or really since.
When the year ended, a group of us were standing around a boy who was upset. I made a cavalier and cruel comment that I thought to be funny, and fitting in. He was a really lovely, genuine and nice person, and so kind to everyone. He was often bullied. I hadn’t spent a huge amount of time with him in centre focus that year, he always seemed to drift at the periphery of the group to me. He looked directly into my eyes and I stood frozen. He said something like ‘You may have thought only 6 people voted for you for school captain. At least I was one of them’. My soul crushed. I didn’t know what to say. I hope I apologised but my memory ends the moment my heart broke for causing him pain.
And there is something in that exchange I always remember when I think about who my true people really are, and who I am actually spending my time with. I am more at home with those who know the things I know, than those who don’t care to hear them. They remind me of who I am, and who I lose when I try to fit in. I missed out on a lot, not knowing Christopher better.
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