I got a call today.


I don't know who reads this, if anyone at all reads this. And I can't sleep.

When I was seven, I found out I was adopted.

I remember I was at a funeral, for someone my dad and his friend Brian knew. I was seven, so I didn't know the person and the funeral was just a place to hang out with Brian's daughter Kelly, who was also my age. My memory is a bit fuzzy, I believe there was a mass because I remember skipping the wine but eating the cracker. However, what I am certain of was that there were trees outside in bloom, so it must have been during the spring.

Kelly and I were playing, and out of the blue she asked me what being adopted was like. I remember at first I said I didn't know-- but then I understood what she meant. I don't know what my parents' original plan was... maybe they would tell me when I was a teenager... maybe they wouldn't tell me at all. But whatever plans they had were ruined that day. I remember crying and being very upset as they tried to explain to me that it wasn't the end of the world. I think what upset me the most was how much sense it made to me, and how I could have avoided a lot of grief if they had just told me.

Growing up, I had (and have) a lot of cousins. Our family is very big, and everyone, in my opinion, is beautiful. Everyone could have walked out of a Gap catalogue. Everyone, except me. When I was little, all I wanted was to grow up and be like them somehow. I kept thinking maybe one day I'd make it to the Gap catalogue, be beautiful and effortlessly charming, but I never did.

For most of my preteen life I didn't tell anybody because adoption was a pretty punchline and I knew I would get teased. So I kept it a secret. I had to come clean in seventh grade, after four townships merged schools, and my cousin Michelle and I were suddenly in the same school. She made sure to tell everyone that yes, we were cousins, but not blood related for I was adopted. After that, I've learned to speak freely about it.

It's hard to trust again, after something you thought to be certain turns out to be not true.

I admit that even today I am cautious about what I share with a particular person. Every time I reveal something true about myself, I have to always ask myself the very worst scenario that could come of it. Yet at the same time, finding someone to share anything with is a thrill, because there's reward but also a lot of risk if this friendship or relationship were to sink.

Trust, in general, is hard. And I'm well aware that my parents love me and that I'm very lucky to have been adopted by them. I can't imagine being without them.

I got a call today from a friend I haven't spoken to in quite some time.

We met my freshman year and got along famously, as some would say. It was so nice to have such a close friend with the same interests. I met her at 2 am in the shared freshman dorm bathrooms. We also lived in dorms our sophomore year and were suite mates.

Junior year, she decided to commute from home, and communication was still strong, but then she stopped answering calls. Three months went by before she called back, and it turned out things had been rough for her, her divorced parents were fighting via lawsuit and it was taking a toll on her. We talked for two hours, she said it was great to hear from me, and that we should talk every week.

Until today, I hadn't heard from her since then, since co-op, and she messaged me today, a long apology letter explaining that, under emotional stress, she tends to cut people out and hide away from the world.

It's strange, trying to go back to the way things used to be. It's almost like a breakup, both parties are unsure of how to move now. She asked me what was new, and it's hard to say, "well, for you, mostly everything is new."

 I told her about my co-op experience, the sadness of my first job being over run with interns so they let me go-- to the joy of being involved with Django Unchained and realizing that all along, my second job was miles upon miles better. I told her the thrill of my boyfriend telling me he loved me for the first time, and how he and I handled long distance like pros. I told her about the California sun, about how my best friend from high school and I plan to move out there, her to southern California for grad school if she gets in, or with me. I told her about the classes I'm taking and about my script.

She filled me in, sometimes with tears, sometimes with laughter. I felt awkward, detached, because earlier in my life I would have been devastated with her, but now I'm not sure if my empathy would aid or hinder her.

Strange, how much time has passed. Even stranger, that I got that call.

Like I said, I don't know if anyone actually reads this.

Good night.