“That squirrwel just scared me!”
“........” *I cry on the inside*
When I was younger I had a lisp. I would immediately get mimicked by friends or who I thought were my friends and then I would be asked me to repeat myself and then laugh. Sometimes I’d feel ashamed of how I spoke and had wished I had a british accent or something that just wasn’t the way I talked. To me speaking English had always felt easy, but when it flew out my mouth it made me want to sink under my bed covers at home. I’d always wanted better for myself, but I couldn’t change the way I spoke so I decided that I wouldn’t speak at all. Then I had become that kid who’s always in the corner. I extremly shy,
“No, shhhh-eet, sheet.”
“See? splendid job!”
Well, since my English wasn’t perfect I had to attend speech class. My lisp would make my language sound weak. Like I’d say my Sh’s like S’s and all my S’s with my Sh’s and also my r’s like w’s. If it was sheep i’d say seep and if it was sweep i’d say shweep or even i’d get my sh’s mixed up with words that didn’t include that sound. The way I spoke made me stand out and the more I noticed I stood out, I kept my mouth shut. The language I used to say, says that I am a weak duckling and I wanted to be a clear confident and secure duckling but I couldn’t… so of that time being, I stayed to myself and kept my words to me, I and myself.
“Okay class, what’s nine plus ten?”
*Class laughs* “No Leila, thats wrong. Do you know Corinthia?”
“Um, nine-theen”. *class laughs again*
“Hush class, thats right!”
Only if I were a clear confident and secure duckling, then I could shader the laughter and mockery of others. I could show them the real me… I could stand up to anythingI could be something, known to be as wonderful. I yearned for that ever so badly. It is said from Hungry of memory that, “Words were meaningfully ordered and the point was not self- expression alone but to make oneself understood by others,” but my words weren't so understandable... So I started watching more British movies such as Jane Eyre, Narnia and Doctor Who, to give me senses of different speech to practice. Then I’d let their words sink to my brain so I could become perfect as them. Then I soon found myself speaking differently, it didn’t sound british at all but instead more of an Irish accent which made perfect sense cause I am Irish… but still that hadn’t changed my lisp. So I began “self- speaking teachings”, where I’d go to my bedroom and stare in the mirror and made myself sound perfect and I’d practice it every night.
“Shallow, The shallow sea wasn’t great for fishing. Shallow.”
“Shelow. The shelow, I mean the shallow sea wasn’t great for fishing. Shallow.”
“Wow!, you’re improving!!”
Pretty soon I started to notice what was said wrongly. So I then corrected myself and kept practicing. Then I realized that make myself perfect by starting over what I’ve done imperfectly. With this I encouraged myself to never give up, which had an impact with who I was. My Identity grew into someone that’d always wanted absolutely the best and I begin pressing myself for perfectness. Once my speech become clearly confident I became a snob. I thought I was better than everyone cause the way I talked. Which made me feel confident. Which was what I wanted. I received what I’d yearned for ever so long.
“Do you want this half of my sandwich?”
*Examines half closely* “No thanks, I don’t eat bread with the crusts.”
“Oh, whatever then.”
Others soon around me didn’t like me. They would make fun of me for becoming someone they couldn’t… a someone that could make the better out of their flaws. Then I’d say to myself who needs them? With their insufficient minds they don’t matter at all… I have myself and me is all thats important, people come and go and die anyways. So i’d wouldn’t care how people made fun of me, I was me and no could cease that. I soon found myself lonely but all of my teachers loved me. I was a teacher’s pet and people really hated me but I still didn’t care. I didn’t care about the teachers nor my classmates. Til this one day I became ill. I was sick. Sick with a bad cold. Whenever I’d talked I would sound like a stuffed up goose that wanted to be sent back to its smelly green old swamp. I grew sad during my sickness, all I thought about was how imperfect I sounded and felt. I felt icky. So on the nights I couldn’t look to myself in the mirror I would cry.
“And why did Laura want to visit her grandma?”
“Ummm because she felt happiness happens through palliative pursuits?”
“What? Wrong. Corinthia I thought you read lasts nights chapter. Very disappointed.”
“I’m sorry, I haven't been feeling well lately.”
“I know, I know. Just try to catch up, would ya?”
“Good.”My cold only lasted for nine days though, which had seemed like a dreaded Hell… but after I was feeling well I had to go back to school. There, whenever I opened my mouth, my speech… oh my speech, it was horrid. My voice was sore and low. I assume from all the putrid cherry cough syrup I had taken. So the shy girl I once was. My perfectness had worn off, I was now ugly, full of flaws and unacceptable. Til 7th grade came, a new girl showed me being perfect wasn’t everything. Her name was Taylor. We were bestest of friends, we’d faced pain together, joy and laughter as radiant as the sun with each other and we were the outcasts. Then soon she had to go bye bye and flew to south Carolina cause of family reasons and I then grew into someone different. Someone that’d did her very foremost quantity in everything, exquisitely.