A best Friend

My diary is my best friend! Coming into a new country was exciting but scary at the same time. Scary because of the changes I had to make, learning a new language and culture. It wasn’t fearful because I had my best friend coming with me: my diaries. My diaries were the only important thing I could bring with me. I felt my soul leaving my body when the plane started to fly, and I held my diary closer to my chest. “You’re okay Mame! You’ll be okay. I’m here with you and I’ll never let you down.” I felt like my diary talked to me and it made me feel better about myself and about the new country I was coming to. Living in the United States as a teenager who didn’t know any English was hard. I had no friends, it was just me and my diaries. I relied more on them, brought them to school to talk to them when I felt alone, and whenever I write in there, I felt like I was talking to someone and I wasn’t alone anymore. I had someone by me, who will never leave me, someone that I will rely on for the rest of my life. I know how it feels when you come to a new country and learn a new language. How people make fun of you for your accent. When you want to say something but can’t because you don’t have the words in English. I know how it feels when you make a fool out of yourself just so people could understand you. All those hard times I survived it with my diaries, writing on them made me feel better and stronger because I knew I came to the United States for a reason and that reason is more than some people’s ignorance. While learning a new language and a new culture, my best friend (diary) was there by me. I write more and more because it feels better, knowing that I have someone by me who help me overcome my problem just by talking to that person. I remember when I was nine years old, at that time, my writing was simple and short poems and how I wanted my life to be. But growing up, I rely more on writing in my diaries and I started to love it. What made me rely more on writing is loneliness and people always misunderstanding me. I write about poems, songs and about life. I naively write everything that touches my heart. Writing in my diaries is the only thing I relied on when the rest of the world is a mess. When I write I feel like I could control everything. I live in a world where people always misunderstand me and judge me without even taking time to talk to me, to know me better, and know what’s behind the introverted person I am. There’s always a reason behind everyone’s attitudes, so why judge me? I never asked to be who I am. In fact, I sometimes hate being the way I am, but if you take your time to know this introvert person you will find out: I am sensitive, I get hurt easily and I can’t hold back my tears in many moments because I am too emotional. I am kind and care about people, I even care about people who’ve hurt me the most. I’m shy, and sometimes I lack confidence. Sometimes I wish I was careless and no too emotional. Maybe if I was careless I wouldn’t get hurt easily, and if I was less sensitive and fragile. But being sensitive and fragile also mean I am alive in the moment of now. I shouldn’t hate it but embrace it because it’s what makes me unique and a part of who I am. One of my favorite teachers told me: there is power and strength in having feelings and allowing myself to feel these feelings. So many people feel the same way as me. But they close themselves off and don’t allow themselves to feel anything. I embrace my powerful willingness to experience life and all the emotions that comes with it. I know how it feels to be your only friend. Whenever I feel down, I take my diary and write because she’s the only one I can talk to, and she’s my best friend. I am Mame Nzambi. And I am proud to be me.