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Edward Callery

Ms. McAlister

ENG 1113-0

11/23/2015

Recluse

I am alone. I’ve been everywhere yet I am nowhere. Disassociated from everything by

both circumstance and choice. Who am I, but myself? What am I a part of? I am alone. I’m stuck

between the ever glistening choices to cling to the past and trying to take my loneliness in

strides. Sometimes I wish I wasn’t the person I am, but I’ll always be proud of who I’ve become.

I am a shadow of my former self, yet so much bigger than I’d ever thought I’d be, I know who I

am, that knowledge is all I could possibly ask for—yet when I’m asked about what I’m a part of,

I only draw blanks. I am only a part of myself.

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In a literal sense it can be said that I’m a part of the student body, my ethnicity, gender,

nationality, my family, those who share the same hobbies as me, etc.—but there’s more to being

a part of something than simple association and convenience. Those who are close to me by

distance, not relation—have nothing to do with who I am, what I do, they don’t talk to/spend

time with me, nor provide comfort. All the white people in the world don’t know my name or

existence, neither do all the men in the world, or even the people that make the sandwiches that I

eat for lunch. The same can only be said about those around me, no matter how many times we

might exchange looks, or short conversations, the interactions are not near enough substantial to

form any sort of association. I’m not a part of blue sports team, I don’t read green magazine, nor

do I participate in yellow club—my interactions are my own.

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I’m not family orientated, although I exist in my own family, I don’t feel like I belong.

I’m an only child, and my parents although supportive, were hardly ever there. I’ve been more

influenced by more personal experiences and readings than anything in the world, even my own

parents. I’m nothing like them, and although it makes me sad to say so—I’m glad. My parents

are good people, but I do not want to be like them, I’ve seen them both at their worst, much more

so than their best, I hope in the future I can apply those experiences to being a better parent than

both of them, otherwise I’d rather not, at all.

If the question of “what groups are you a part of” was asked 4 years ago, the answer

would have been so much different. I’ve been in every group, I know what it’s like. I was still in

Asia then, I was happier. I’ve been on the undefeated rugby team, I’ve been popular, I’ve had all

the friends I could ask for, I went to clubs and parties often (underage drinking is prevalent in

Asia), I know what it’s like. I’ve been shoved in a locker before, I’ve shoved kids in a locker—

I’ve been on all sides of the die. I’ve kissed the prettiest girl, I’ve scored the game winning try

(touchdown in rugby), I’ve impressed my teachers and peers, I’ve made my parents proud, my

life was full of highlights. It is often said that once you live those great moments, life after goes

downhill. I’m often left thinking that I’ve already hit my peak at 15, my life onwards is to be

stagnate. Asia had given me my happiness, and Oklahoma had killed it. There’s no semblance of

the times in Asia that I used to have in my life now, I think it’s fair to feel dissociated from

everything around me, that all I have is myself.

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More than anything, my transition from Asia to the United States made me very bitter. I

resented the change completely, I unwillingly hated everything that I did, everybody that I came

across, even the dirt I walked on. I never lived a care-free life, but prior to moving to Oklahoma

—I always felt like everything would work out. I always worked hard in what I did, I was never

the best at anything, and that was okay. I was a jack of all trades, this made it harder to find a

niche, or group to call home. I was equally bad good at everything, but great at nothing.

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Over time, I began to learn that I was rather expressive; I’ve always been

articulate and vocal about my thoughts, but it never occurred to me that being loud, making

jokes, fighting over things would ever make me that way. Being in Oklahoma put away all the

distractions that Asia gave me (such as having fun, being happy, spending time with others), and

allowed me to learn more about myself. I enjoy speaking, a lot actually. Coincidentally, I’m

afraid of speaking—which is an odd experience. It’s like biting down on a knife, but it’s actually

made of chocolate. I guess not everything is as bad as it seems to be.

Becoming more familiar with myself, I found out that I really enjoy making art. I’m

actually quite good at it, I don’t do it so often but I paint, draw, write, make music—and keep

them to myself (What I make, I do it for myself, and it’s always important that I remember that).

It’s funny to me to make poorly illustrated images to express myself, and I felt that it’d be great

to share that with others—it ironically undermines my ability to showcase my thoughts in a more

appealing medium, but allows me to step outside of my bubble.

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This is something I’ve made

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Learning more about myself, I stepped into a few mental illnesses. I pressured my parents

into having me get diagnosed. It was a painful process, but I don’t regret it one bit. I learnt that

on top of ADHD, I had bipolar disorder and mild schizophrenia. I felt really upset about myself

for a bit, but I’ve learnt to embrace the positive personality changes, since (and take medication,

that stuff helps). Having learned so much about myself, I started to disassociate myself from

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people even more. Sometimes I didn’t even feel like a person.

My disorders and prescribed medication began to affect my academic and athletic

performances. I started feeling under-challenged and uninterested in my studies and school work.

I frequently napped in class, to my teacher’s dismay. They didn’t give me too much trouble

though, I scored well enough on their benchmarks and tests (even if I didn’t know much about

the subject before-hand). I began to feel more seperated from the student body, they weren’t like

me, and I wasn’t like them. I spent two years training to play on my school’s varsity football

team, it seemed likely that I was going to play a lot. But I stopped caring for that, as well. I

didn’t like anybody there, I didn’t enjoy what we did. I started skipping practices and ignoring

calls, I didn’t play a single game my junior and senior year. I didn’t even want to be a part of the

football team, I didn’t like being associated with them, when anybody had asked if I was a part

of the team, I’d say no. Everybody felt like an alien to me. But if everybody else is an alien, then

what am I?

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You don’t have to be a part of a group to make it in life, but you’ll always need yourself.

Learning to come to terms with myself is the most important thing I’ve ever done, I understand

my limitations, I don’t spite them—but I am also very aware of what I’m capable of, what I can

achieve. I believe that as long as you have yourself, you’ll never be lonely (especially if you

have voices in your head).

Looking back at the thought, “what am I a part of”, I am certain of my answer. I’m a part

of team Edward. Wait, that just sounds like I’m a fan of Twilight. I’m a part of team me, and I

always will be.

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