Little do you know How I'm breaking while you fall asleep Little do you know I'm still haunted by the memories Little do you know I'm trying to pick myself up piece by piece Little do you know I need a little more time
-Little do you know, Alex &Seirra
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Being brought up in a small town, my family was known to be a bit weird. My first memories growing up were filled with my mother and my aunties telling me that I was doomed—that my life would be devastating and they would make me wear bracelets to fend off the evil. My family looking at fortunes for a living did not help. I didn't have friends and people spoke of me as the witches' child.
I was lonely and paranoid until I met Taeyong and Daisy.
It was us against the world, three of us as we ventured through the fields, running after loose pollen and trying to catch frogs on a rainy day. Some days were harder than the rest and more often than not, I was a victim of bullying.
"Charm! They are here, hide! Hide!" Taeyong would yell and I would duck behind a tree as a group of boys would come walking towards us. Daisy would straighten her back and glare at them and I remembered watching the boys take out rocks from their small backpacks and throw them at us.
Taeyong would wince but my friend would stand his ground, closing his eyes as he took the rocks for me while Daisy would give out a shrill scream, her voice echoing through the fields. She would grab the rocks and throw them back.
"Stone her! She's a witch!" they would say and I would see Daisy barreling towards them, snarling with anger as Taeyong protected me from getting hurt. I would cry and Taeyong would assure me that it was fine while Daisy would curse at the skies. She would say that karma would go to them and that I didn't have to worry—that good things were coming soon.
I would hug them, Taeyong and Daisy and I would sit under a tree, talking about the kind of dreams we had.
"I want to become a musician," he would say. "I want to make music and spend my life making it."
"I want to become a writer." I would reply. I had dreams and I would write books about prejudice, about the symbolism of cultures, and about how our surroundings shaped who we were. As we spoke, Daisy would remain silent and I wondered what her dreams were.
She was a tough kid and we guessed that she didn't have dreams just yet—in the end, we were still young. We were discovering parts of ourselves.
Little did I know that the only reason why she didn't say anything was that she knew she wouldn't make it.
