There was not a care in his mind, just a small child doing what small children do before reality hits and those children cease to be children. He seemed so happy, so carefree, the very definition of what childhood should be.

Every morning he would happily wake up, at 8a.m., without the need for an alarm. He would skip into his parents’ room, turn on the TV to channel 32 and watch Pokemon until his parents called him downstairs to eat breakfast and go to school. School was practically in his backyard and if the weather was nice he would often walk to school with his neighbor and best friend.

For him, school was just a time to meet friends, without the stress of maintaining a satisfactory GPA. In class, fun group activities were more common than actual work. When the fun was over, it was lunchtime. During lunch he would talk to his friends from other classes. And after that came the highlight of his day: recess. During recess he would often play a casual game of basketball or four-square, laughing along with his friends without a care in the world.

After school every day he would go home to watch TV or play with friends. Homework took no longer than twenty minutes and essays were unheard of. Both his parents would be home by dinnertime, if not earlier, and they would all eat together as a family. After dinner, he would have more time to watch TV or play games on his Nintendo DS. But it all ended too soon with his 9 o’clock bedtime.

When Saturday came, he would beg his parents to allow him to sleep over with friends. They would stay awake long past their bedtimes until the very late, very rebellious midnight hour, before inevitably passing out from the exhaustion of playing games and watching TV. Occasionally, he would take a trip with his family and they would spend time together, having fun.
*    *    *
This is how most people remember their childhoods: fun, free of responsibility, innocent. However I was not granted that luxury. Although everything described did happen in some form, for every good, fun thing, there was always something else that was much worse.

Although school work was easy, living with my parents’ expectations were not. In typical Asian-parent-fashion they were not happy with anything less than 100% on any tests, and on top of academics, they forced me to play the piano, study Chinese and join the local swim team. This left me with very little free time which my parents expected me to use to practice the piano or learn more advanced math topics.

My life at school was not any better. For every friend there were even more enemies. Insulting me, calling me a loser, saying I would never get anywhere in life, poking at my insecurities and creating new ones, bullying me. Being the short, fat, minority kid, I was an easy target. They would insult everything about me, even things that would have been considered good, like my intelligence or dedication to school work. It was not uncommon for me to cry myself to sleep because of them, only making me more vulnerable. My friends would support me when they could, but they were not always around. It was no use. I was left to deal with them alone.

What friends I did have were not particularly close. Although we could play together, none of them were able to understand what I was going through. They wondered what made my life so hard when they were able to have the perfect childhood.

As I matured both mentally and physically, these problems seemed to disappear. All my struggles had vanished, absorbed by my spirit, making me stronger. What had once made me cry myself to sleep every night was now no more than a distant memory, a reminder of what I would never again be. All the struggles I faced molded me into who I am today, if I had not gone through what I did, you would be hearing a very different Andrew reading a very different story to you right now.

Unlike most people, childhood is not something I would ever want to return to. However, if asked whether I regret anything that happened during that time, my answer would be a whole-hearted “no.”