Personal/Reflective
People often ask why I seem to be so happy; my usual reply is “because I’m alive”.
It was six days after my eleventh birthday, so naturally I was happy, but by the end of this day there are feelings I had that I never knew existed.
I recall my primary six teacher asking my class to gather round her as she had something to tell us. She said that a man had gone into a primary school in Dunblane and started shooting at innocent children. The thought that someone could this came to me as a great shock but I did not even consider what might have happened to my cousin, Emma, who lives there. In all honesty I had forgotten about her.
It wasn’t until I walked past my house window after school and I could see my mum crying, I filled up with worry but the thought of what had happened to my cousin still never entered my mind. I looked at her, then my mum said my cousin’s name. It felt like my legs had just disintegrated. I could not stand. I filled up with both crushing emotion and devastating anger. The reason for my tears was obvious but the answer for my aggression plagued my mind endlessly. I found myself unable to look at anyone. The room was filled with loved ones who were going through the exact same as I was yet each look came across as so patronising.