Who Am I?
Written by Sasha Efimchik, Grade 8
Illustration by Ella Aspinall
Who am I? What makes me, me? That is actually a very interesting question. In my opinion, eighth graders don’t know who they are yet. We are simply too young, and things are constantly changing for us. One of the things about me that I think will stay the same in the future is the fact that I consider myself very art oriented. I love creating paintings and drawings, and am very satisfied when one of my creations turns out how I want it. To add to this, I feel very connected to colors. When I am sad, I want to create a piece that has cool grays, blues, and greens, and I feel very attached to the colors, as well as what the picture is of. For example, when I am sad, I would probably draw some gloomy nature scenes. When I am in a happy mood, I want to use bright colors, usually ones like cyan, yellow, and red. Also when I am happy I am more likely to draw different people and faces, because I feel more confident of my abilities at that moment. To add to this, I also feel connected to music, another form of art. Some music literally has the power to make my cry, while other music makes me feel like I’m floating. An example of a song that makes me sad is “Silence” by Khalid and Marshmallow, and one that gives me overwhelming happiness is “Heat Waves” by Glass Animals. Sometimes, my love of music, colors, and art comes together, and I create something full of feeling and emotion.
Similar to my love of different forms of art is my love of fashion. Wearing a nice blouse with jeans makes me happier and more confident than wearing yoga pants and a t-shirt. I think what a person wears really reflects who they are because it’s how they show themselves to people. For example, when I wear a leather jacket and ripped jeans, I am feeling confident and want to show that to people, but when I put on a cute sweater and light color jeans I want to look comfortable, but cute. What is cool about clothing is that I can also put on sweatpants and a t-shirt and look less cute and more comfortable. Also, what I wear depends on who I'm around. If I am with a good friend, I wear nice clothes I feel like I look good in, and if I’m with someone I don’t know well, I wear something comfortable.
Speaking of friends, I feel a very strong connection to my peers whom I bond with. I usually bond with them by telling them a secret of mine, and thus, they begin to trust me and tell me their secrets too. By the time we’re “best friends” I trust them to tell them other important aspects of my life. My “love language” I think people call it, is both touch and presents, the first of which I can’t do nowadays. By touch, I mean I like hugging my friends a lot to show how much I appreciate them. Although if they tell me not to, I don’t. About presents, I usually like giving them things they like or they are a fan of. For example, when I had a friend who really liked Cole Sprouse, I gave them a Cole Sprouse figurine, and for a friend who liked the popular youtuber Dream, I gave them some of his merch. Sometimes, my friends don't end up staying my friends, which end up changing who I am and how I present myself. Recently, after experiencing a toxic situation with a friend, I began being more careful about how I communicate with others by text. I also learned a lesson; Do not call someone perfect just because they haven’t done anything bad to you yet, because nobody is perfect. What is good about all of my previous friends though, is that I’ve never had a friend who is racist or homophobic, which is good because I do not stand for any of that.
I would like to add that I am very passionate. Whenever someone is mean to one of my friends, I will not hesitate to defend them. For example, back in sixth grade, someone insulted my friend’s cat, so I texted them angry text messages about it, defending her and explaining that it was mean. I realize that this was not the most effective way to handle the situation, but I was eleven, so I didn’t know any better. Another time I was passionate was when we were reading a book about racism, and every time there was a racist or sexist moment I would get really angry and speak up loudly about it. Also, I am very ardent about topics having to do with the LGBTQ+ community. First, as an ally and as a part of it myself, I have always tried to educate people about it. Even though I have not come across a homophobic person, if I see anyone being bullied about being part of the LGBTQ+ community I will not hesitate to put the bully in their place and as respectfully as I can, prove to them that they are wrong.
The last thing I would like to add to this is emotions. I myself feel emotions very intensely when I do have them. When I am happy, it usually escalates to a very very “on top of the world” type of happy; and when I’m sad, it extends to a “Why do I exist?” sad. Along with the basic happiness and sadness, I also feel self-love and self-hate. For example, when I put on an outfit that I feel confident in, or my hair looks extra nice and fluffy, I feel good about myself. Thoughts like “I am glad I put this on” and “I look frickin good right now” flow through my head. But, when I feel self-hate, everything is different. It usually happens when I get a bad grade, do something stupid, or receive a mean text. Those thoughts usually go like this: “Why didn’t I study more? Maybe I’m just stupid.” “What did I do to deserve that?” and sometimes even “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!”. When I get into this state of mind, I listen to music. Sad songs calm down the intense self-hate. I repeat, “I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care,” in my head over and over until it mellows down to a numb sadness. Then I put on my poker face and move on, and eventually the sadness goes away too. Then the cycle repeats. Happy, sad, numb, and moving on.
As an eighth grader, friendships, relationships, emotions, and drama can be simply overwhelming; and thus, I think nobody really knows who they are. Maybe others know, but honestly, if someone asked me today who I am, there would be only one answer I could give. “Who, me? I’m a mess.”