by Divya

Created on: April 28, 2008

I read a book about making paper cranes. This girl was trying to make a thousand to have her wish come true. I wanted my wishes to come true too. So I started paper crane making. I had many wishes. I made it to about six hundred. I kept them in a box with a rose on it.

In the story the girl dies before she makes it to a thousand. However, children make enough paper cranes after she dies to fulfill her work. It was then I became obsessed with leaving a legacy.

Shortly, after my parents divorced, our house caught on fire. Did my dad do it? I was scared. No my mom reassured me it was electrical. So what, I got a little carried away - I was twelve, forgive me.

We stayed in a friend's house and they had cable. It was like a sleep-over. We bought new clothes for me and I finally got the plaid shirt with the hood I had always wanted to look "grunge". I loved Nirvana.

I went to school the next day. This is how I found out I am not materialistic- in the sense, object oriented. Many of us are, we are attached to "things". I found out young that there is no use in being so materialistic. It has helped me in my life. However I went to school where people were indeed "stuff-obsessed". The stuffiness of it all would drive me to other places. Long journeys. But enough about fore-telling. Let's stick to the basics.

My friend pulled my tag off my new shirt (yes I was that much of a dork and had left it on). She cried "I am so sorry for your loss". I didn't flinch. I wondered what she was truly upset about. Maybe she liked to cry I decided. "Drama queen" was a term not then used, but applicable at the time.

I was called into the principals office. "If there is anything I can do please let me know. I have clothes you can use...". Her words trailed off. I saw the black sweater she was wearing with multi-colored sequined leaves all over it. Yeah right I thought. She had to be kidding. But I didn't laugh out loud. I had some sense of self-control. I went back to science class.

In class my smart-mouthed teacher opened his big fat mouth. " You know this doesn't happen to everyone. In fact this is very rare. This only happens in one to (some number) of people." And then I cried. Not because I was sorry for my loss, but because I was different. I wanted to be the same.

Sameness was the name of the game. But different I would always be. This was torture to me. In retrospect. I realize it's the difference that matters. And it's the difference you make that builds character and lets your soul sing out.

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