May the Pessimistic Strive Forward

From the very beginning, my parents had the heartfelt desire to shield and safeguard me, preventing me from coming into contact with the harsh edges of reality. Since my early days in kindergarten, my leisure time was mostly spent in solitude, with little interaction with peers of my own age. Back then, I didn't attach much importance to socializing, for I believed that my parents' presence alone was enough.

However, as I transitioned to elementary school, my parents could no longer be with me every moment, and my companions shifted to teachers and classmates. In the absence of social experience, I frequently stumbled in my interpersonal relationships, becoming an outsider, an afterthought when my classmates sought playmates. I found myself caught in a vicious cycle born out of my ineptitude in social situations, growing ever more apprehensive and averse to social interactions, and increasingly self-conscious when faced with unfamiliar faces.

At the age of thirteen, I encountered the finest teacher of my life. Her name was Mrs. Lu, my homeroom and Chinese language teacher. Perhaps my mother had shared my situation with her, setting me apart from the rest. Mrs. Lu would often pose simpler questions to me in class and commend my answers while reviewing assignments. Such praise, rare from sources beyond my parents, instilled a newfound confidence within me. Emboldened by Mrs. Lu's encouragement, I began actively volunteering to answer questions.

In return, I approached seemingly inconsequential class activities with greater earnestness, driven by a desire to reciprocate her kindness. I vividly recall a particular occasion when Mrs. Lu introduced us to ultra-light clay, instructing us to craft Tang Dynasty tri-colored pottery. Though time was limited during the class, none of us completed our creations. Mrs. Lu shrugged it off, reminding us it was merely for enjoyment. Yet, I spent nearly seven to eight hours at home molding, refining, and carefully coloring my project. Finally, on the following Monday of the second week, I proudly submitted my meticulously crafted work.

It has been said that "education is about love and being loved." Inspired by Mrs. Lu's benevolence, I sought to reciprocate and bring warmth to her. When I graduated from seventh grade, the news of Mrs. Lu's departure from teaching my class brought tears that lasted through the night. It felt as if one of the rare individuals who had illuminated my world within the school's darkness was about to depart, leaving me once again behind my self-imposed walls. However, even though Mrs. Lu ceased to be my teacher, her guidance remains etched deeply within me. In the following grades, I was fortunate to encounter another exceptional Chinese language teacher, carrying forward the active engagement I had cultivated in Mrs. Lu's class.

The word "teacher" no longer evoked terror or severity, but rather a symbol of inspiration and growth.

As I entered my sophomore year, familiar challenges resurfaced. Firstly, the thrill of learning diminished significantly. The high-intensity academic demands depleted my energy, leaving me unable to handle the mounting pressure. Secondly, the weight of it all made it harder to hide my interpersonal flaws, as I lacked the energy to mask my vulnerabilities. I had a tendency to boast, craving recognition, and my emotional instability was apparent to my classmates. I couldn't help but envy those with genuine friendships, witnessing the beauty of their connections while feeling distant from such joy.

In moments of solitude, I questioned my place in the world, pondering why I felt like such a misfit. At times, I experienced hallucinations, envisioning myself behind a translucent, shimmering barrier that separated me from everything else, suffused with a faint blue electric glow. It was a personal prison, and reaching out to touch it would only yield a searing pain. While some may recognize these symptoms as somatic disorders, I have sought professional guidance without finding definitive answers.

I am well aware of my circumstances and have no intention of spreading pessimism or pain. My struggle with interpersonal relationships stems from a lack of early practice, and my current classmates are not all like the mischievous individuals who once taunted me. I have had cherished teachers, trusted friends, and moments of recognition that have brightened my path. I genuinely hope for a better future where I can reclaim the lost beauty.

At this stage, I still retain some control over my emotions, allowing me to navigate through the turmoil. If my story resonates with some of my classmates or offers solace, it would be truly wonderful. That is the purpose behind sharing my experiences here. Sometimes, I dream of becoming the person standing on the edge of a crumbling cliff, reaching out to save every child running towards it. Yet, for now, I am that child, running with uncertainty. Yet, Mrs. Lu, my friend, and my family are holding me tight.

Story from Lenno