My Best Friend - Original Writing

As a child I remembered my dog cookie, living far from any neighbors, cookie was my best friend. On every adventure she was right by my side. A pets love is a special thing to a child, most of my best memories involve her. I still remember picking her out from the pound, the worker referred to her as “the mutt”. To me that said it all, mutt sounded cool and really tough. So of course to really prove how tough she was, she was named after a dessert treat. I can recall all the times we swam in the bayou, snuck out of chores to play, and shared snacks in the yard. I also remember the day that cookie was tired, and hurting and how we had to go say our goodbyes to her so she can feel better. After ten years passed I can still remember almost

A few years ago when I arrived in the United States, specifically in Arizona I met a group of people who were from Cuba just like me. From that group, I became closer to Eduardo someone who I consider to be one of my best friends. When I met him, he was 20 years of age and from my point of view, his appearance resembled that of a man. One day while we engaged in one of our typical conversations, he began to cry unexpectedly. I was completely shocked and concerned as I was not aware of what was occurring to him. He then started confessing that throughout his life he had been trapped inside the body of a man and that he didn’t feel comfortable with the person he was obligated to represent. I didn’t entirely comprehend what he implied as “being obligated” until the day I met his parents. From that moment on everything began to make sense, Eduardo’s family was what we could classify as “traditional”. Coming from a traditional Latino family, it is important to keep the image of a real man as someone who portrays exaggerating masculine characteristics or in other words, someone who appears and performs like a “macho”. In Eduardo’s case, his community in Cuba didn’t accept his “feminine” behavior because it didn’t satisfy their expectations of what it signified to be a man. Thus, in the eyes of his family, Eduardo was a humiliation and so he was forced to imitate a man. Nonetheless, it wasn’t until he starting living in the United States that he initiated his gender transition

“You can go now April,” called out Dad. I put down my basket and went in the direction of the backdoor of the little old house my parents and I lived in.

We were a normal family of four at first. It was my mom, dad, brother and I. We lived in a little adobe house that they made themselves. I was their first child, the oldest of two. I was born in Mexico and life there seemed simple, but as a child I couldn’t really tell when things weren’t. Things were pretty normal the first four years of my life, I was about to go to school in Mexico and I spent a lot of time with my dad and family. I was really close with my dad, we would go out together a lot, he had a bunch of CD’s in his car and he would play one and we’d sing together, and he would make me breakfast in the mornings while I watched morning cartoons. He was basically my role model in my early days, it was nice too, I really enjoyed it.

I made him proud. It wasn’t the type of proud where you bring home a good grade; no, it was more of an awe type of proud. It was a challenge to make him proud due to my ambiance, and the people who occupied it. If I told you I had a bad childhood, I wouldn’t only be lying but simply undermining my pride that I developed growing up there. I was constructed in paradise, and by paradise I mean the place you fantasize about vacationing every spring break. 26 miles long, and exactly 6 miles to be exact. Overcoming obstacles came with two factors, me being the only girl in the family, and the idea that my family pursued, which was boys did the better things like, fishing. My paradise may have been limited, but it implemented the principles that I apply to my everyday life and shaped me into the young girl I am today.

I have never been more scared in my entire life. I’ve seen it in movies but it’s never happened in real life. I can actually see it with my own eyes. We all saw it and we even have evidence.

I don’t like to talk about my past but I’m willing to make an exception for this in an attempt to move forward. I’m going to be completely honest with you. I’m comfortable talking about this now but when I was a lot younger I was attacked by a person holding a knife to my head. I froze unable to move. I was scared to death. I was unsure with what to do. That day I felt like I was hopeless. I was completely unable to do anything for what I feel lasted forever. I thought my life flashed before my life. When my body well, I’m not sure what happened but I kinda punched the person and ran away. The words haunt me to today “Hey kid want to see heaven.” Yea umm don’t grow up in Compton it’s a bad idea 0 outta 10 would never recommend. The one

"Owen!" My mother yelled at me as I came down the stairs, as if I 'd done something seriously wrong. My mind raced as I tried to recall everything I had done in the past weeks.

This was the first time in my life I felt about walking away from a deal before I heard all of it. I was sure this deal was going to be too good to be true by the look on the man’s smug face, and that alone said loudly to turn this offer down. If it wasn’t for me knowing how the little fat gravity ball baring got his black eye, I would ask for an explanation to piss the man off. I’ve never liked the man, but my father had paid the man a small fortune to change his Fifth Level vitals to be acceptable for an Eight Level Matrimonial Listing. I may have been near the bottom of the list, but I did receive a few calls for blind dates. I never knew who my father had made a deal with, but whoever it was, they wanted several unasked favors

Sandra is 19 years old. She is five feet four inches high, weighs one-hundred and thirty pounds. She always has a unique laugh. She always loved to wear Nike shoes. She is a very beautiful woman. She has dark black hair, brownie eyes with nice long lashes, and a cute smile. Every time she put make up it make her feel more confident and enhanced her beauty that is already there. But I already think she look beautiful the way she is without the make up.

“Jr, come on. Your father’s going to be home any minute now!” My mother squealed

never came to terms where we’d like to live in. We’ve lived from the smallest of towns to big city places and all around Texas but I’ve never complained because i love to move around and meet new souls as my dad said. Originally living in Houston, i got used to the city never sleeping but once the moving began i changed my mind quickly. From all the places i’ve had the pleasure of living in, there is one thing i have learned from my travels as we’ve finally stopped in a city like town, nothing beats living in the country.

I sprinted. I sprinted until my lungs burned, and my legs just couldn’t move anymore. I began to quiver with exhaustion. I knew he was still back there. Somewhere, hiding with his knife. Watching. I’d barely escaped with my life, he knew it and I knew it. I knew he was still on to me. Waiting until the perfect moment for when I wasn’t quite paying enough attention. He’d catch me off guard. I peer around, looking for a quick escape route through the tall dark trees. Granted, I could hide, but I’m terrified that he’ll find me, and I’ll have no chance to run.

If you are reading this, I congratulate you. Not many converse with me before their time. Oh, but where are my manners?...I must have misplaced them; therefore, I will refrain from introducing myself. Instead, I will tell you my story in the hopes that you will fear me as I was once feared. Time used to be my ally, guiding everyone and everything to me, at least almost everyone. Young Enoch was able to escape my grasp, as was Elijah when his time neared. Now, Time has beaten me down into something altogether different. Time has used me to create hope.

Many years ago, when I was still a child, my mother would bring me to the Henan province on New Year 's Eve. Every year, my mother would bring me door-to-door to visit my relatives to greet them and to give them gifts. I would always get excited that I would be able to visit my prosthetic legged uncle, “iron man”. One night I asked him, “Uncle, why do you have a metal leg, and how do I get a metal leg like yours?” My uncle turned his head away from me, and said, "I 'll tell you one day, maybe when you get older."