Growing Up Too Young

Coming of Age

My story starts at my earliest memory…when I was three.

He’s coming back.

When was the last time he was here?

What did we do last time?

I can’t wait to leave.

What’s going on?

What’s everyone doing?

They’re laughing so I want to laugh too.

He’s here.

Her older cousin walked in the house and she didn’t talk to him. It wasn’t like she knew why she wasn’t talking to him. Even I didn’t know. She wasn’t sure about what her heart and mind said in the blueprints, she was still growing. She’s still so small. And truthfully her heart and mind would always be blueprints until the moment she realized she was a person too. Doesn’t she feel like a person now though? I would ask her but that’s an answer that I don’t even know. I look through her eyes and I could never tell you what was going on in her mind. How do small people’s thoughts even pass by. How big is their comprehension at this age? He walks up to her and takes her hand then led her to an empty hallway. What was going on?

BLANK

I’m five now.

London loves being the leader and, Kayla doesn’t even see it. I wish I was in her place to be a better friend to, Kayla. To be a leader. London was so pretty and energetic yet so bossy. They all circle around each other and with me on the side. Each had their own best friend so where was mine? What did they have that I didn’t? I could lean in closer but they’ll see more clearly that I’m not like them. If they gave me a chance, I could show them that I can be one of them.

Ten.

Makayla was the new girl. Tall, beautiful, and cheerful. And she wanted to be my friend? She was so curious and down to earth. I could finally tell my secrets, I could finally gossip, and I could finally laugh about things that only we’d understand. She was amazing. I pictured her as a flower. I was so lucky to have her. She led people in a way that I wanted to. She was already tall but her personality gave most of her height. Once we worked in small groups with Makayla as the leader. Another girl wanted to join and for some reason i said, “Let’s vote on it.” Makayla agreed and the teacher snapped, “Makayla that’s mean. Work by yourself!” I don’t know if Makayla forgot that the voting was my idea but she left in a huff. When she left the group to me, I was happy filling in her place. I was the leader. I was her.

Eleven.

I’m in sixth grade now and I’m getting tired of the rivalry behind everyones shadow. I want a new start, I want to be happy, and I want to get to be me. But I can’t. Why can’t I?

If I could ask each version of those girls of what was happening, I would. If I could, I could finally have the answer for myself. What was it that was tearing me? Why was I the passive follower in the shadows? I remember It feeling like I was in the ground. Why didn’t I have the answers then? Why don’t I have it now? Five year old me, answer me! Ten year old me, I’m listening! Back then I had no agency of myself, and now that I do, I feel broken. Someone taps me and in a second less than a heartbeat, I’m not myself. Who am I?

He pulled me closer and demanded quietly, “Kiss me.” I regain lost memories and I see the destruction of my innocence in flashbacks.

I’m not hurt, I’m not mad, I’m confused. Something between me and my cousin happened last year and I’m just now remembering. Apparently things have been happening for years. I feel flattered, I feel used, and I feel confused. This went on for seven years and now I remember. I remember the sounds, the movements, and my silence. I’ve been lost since I was two and every moment after was like an observation of places that I wasn’t apart of it. I can’t even say the words. S-S-Sexual abuse?

Fifteen.

I grew up young yet I was stuck as a child. I know the answers to all my questions and I still can’t fully tell you how it feels. I grew up before I had memories to remember so my sexual abuse story seems normal in a way. I was introduced to things that I’m just now starting to understand as a teenager. It’s hard to separate myself as the me who was abused and the person I am now. My coming of age story is all over the place. It’s like chapters from in my childhood are blank and others are shades of grey. I don’t know if I can recover any memories from age two, but the vivid moment with my older cousin is the earliest memory I have. Everything after was a struggle of identity. I still struggle with that. I grew up young…and I see the shards when I look in the mirror.