// Moving Towns…//
When I was seven my parents decided to move from the city to a smaller town, after wanting more land to grow vegetables and raise animals – and more room for another child. I was the only person who didn’t want to move. My big sister was having a tough time with bullies, but at the school I was ‘popular’ to some degree, always had ‘boyfriends’ and was super confident. My class was cultured and embraced every faith and colour, which was great and I just liked the school in general.
Then we moved to a nice bigger house on the edge of this town, where the first school and middle school were right next to each other. On the first day of school it was alright and it was exciting. I kind of remained my confident self for a little while, until I realised that even at that age people know who their friends are very early on. I was lucky as my sporty side meant I didn’t suffer the normal ‘new kid’ phase as a lot of my class loved running around the playground and playing competitive sports.
The moment my self esteem crashed though was after my seven-year-old self approached a boy I really liked. In the city we had all been quite into ‘getting with each other’ early on and to be fair here there were already lots of power couples, even at our young age. He was stood with his friend in this corner you can’t really escape from and I’m pretty sure I just went straight towards him with my lips puckered. In the end I just kissed him on the cheek and ran off, but that was it everyone was coming and asking me about it and I got super embarrassed. I still really regret doing it, though no one really probably cared the next day. But that was it… It ruined my relationships with boys for a long time and to be fair I had lots of crushes, but I wasn’t the coolest person to date. I had to put up for many years seeing all my friends lusted up with guys whilst I sufficed with rom-coms and just depressed myself more about it all.