I remember the first time I looked in the mirror, and thought “I am beautiful”.  It felt amazing.  It was two months ago.  I was staring at myself in the mirror as I did shoulder weight lifting.  My shoulders are definitely not my strongest muscle.  In fact, I usually only do one wet of twenty with fives, and a set of ten with eights.  At the time, doing fifteen with five was a huge challenge.

I was in the Western Varsity weight training room.  I was doing a soccer fitness class for Rangers.  I was wearing my purple PVA shirt, and blue running shorts.  I remember looking in the mirror to check my form, and thought, “I am beautiful”.  It was wonderful.

I have always looked at myself and thought: I have pretty hair, my eyes look good today, I got really tan yesterday, or I got another line for my six-pack.  But mostly I noticed the huge zit on the left side of my nose or my hair is too frizzy, or my face looks blotchy and red.

But at the moment, I felt beautiful.  I had sweat dripping down the side of my use, and my arms felt like they were going to become disconnected at the shoulders.  But still, I felt beautiful.  I’d never felt like that before.

Then, three days later, I was washing my hands as quickly as I could when I looked into the mirror at school.  And I felt beautiful again.  Then it just kept happening to me.  It made me feel so good about myself.  And now, I know that I am always beautiful.  When i look in the mirror, I notice that there is a zit on the left side of my nose, and I lost that line in my ix pack I had a few days ago, and I don’t have a part, and one side of my hair is really curly, while the other is straight.  So, overall I don’t look too good, but I know that i am beautiful.



I left the soccer field, in a mixture between totally fulfilled and slightly disappointed, which I know, doesn’t make any sense.  I was totally fulfilled, because I played the whole game in my favorite position, and I thought that I played pretty well. I had fun, and I was exhausted from extreme physical exercise and freezing cold from the twenty-mile per hour winds that kept blowing through my light shorts and t-shirt.  We also tied, which is why I felt that tinge of disappointment.

As I was walking off the field I saw the next team getting ready to take the field.  They were about seventeen years old boys wearing a dark blue uniform.  I was watching the goalie warm up.  He was always on his toes, and he dived for everything.  He was amazing.  He had short curly brown hair, and was probably about six feet tall and two inches.

I was so envious.  I have always wanted to be amazing at something.  I have gone to bed so many nights with the image of being a star in my mind.  When I go to bed, I always pick a setting, and a story, then I dream about it.  For example, last night I dreamed that I was at the Junior Olympics, when a scout came up to me and asked if I could be sponsored by Fischer.   And then the U.S. National coach asked me if I wanted to train in Argentina.  It changes sports, and sometimes it is other things, like what college I get into, and a national writing contest.  But it is always something that I win.  I always win in my dreams, and I always lose in real life.



I’m not crying because I am sad.  I don’t mourn the loss of my iPod.  I really don’t care about the iPod, I can use my old one.  I managed to revive it yesterday.  I’m crying, because I’m not responsible.  I can’t even take care of a little piece of plastic/metal.  I can’t take care of a jacket.  I can’t take care of a pair of shoes.  Admit it, I’m a failure.

if this was the first thing that I have ever lost it would be okay.  But I constantly lose things, or I forget things.  I forget to turn in this slip.  I forgot that I won a writing contest.  I forgot my book.  It is ridiculous.  I wonder what I’m going to do when I have to take care of myself.  Will I just forget my life.  And who will be there to comfort me.  Nobody.  I will be all alone.

I can’t tell if I want that.  If I lost my iPod when I lived by myself I wouldn’t be that upset, because it would have been mine, and I didn’t owe it to anyone.  I would be able to sing and cry, and people wouldn’t depend on me.  I could have a pantry stocked with only satsuma and cottage cheese.  But I would be alone, and I would cry into the cold pillows.  I wouldn’t have people who care about me.  I need them.  I love them.  Sometimes I hate them, I hate myself, I hate the way things work, but I know that they are the best things in my life.  So I might not have responsibility, but I have the best family in the world.