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Myself
by Natalia Barcenilla Castejón (2008-09, 5º B)
Talking about myself is a big issue given that I'm not used to doing it. Doing such an introspective, by the way, so well performed by my dearest and admired Woody Allen in every one of his films, I can just feel despair of being unable to express myself.
Confused mind, muddled up with my memories, few remnants collected to create a true story of what I am.
Brought up in a lower-middle class, being the only child of a young couple, I grew up in a delightful atmosphere where love and respect were the prevailing rule. Not missing extraordinary luxuries, I had everything I needed, moreover I was sent to the most highly-regarded schools in the city not caring about the expenses and just thinking about the best education I could achieve. Under no circumstances did they want a spoiled child!
Somehow my parents represent the effort to raise a daughter they could feel proud of , well-mannered, cultivated, with good taste for arts, I enjoyed at an early age every kind of play (at theatre), exhibitions and concerts. Always surrounded by elderly people I developed a special attraction for conversations in which I was a mere observant.
Despite being grateful for my parent's education and what they have meant to me through these years where I built up my personality, I can't help mentioning a misty episode, a turning point that made me face the troubled side of life. Suffering a car accident at the age of eleven where the main members of my family were involved, I felt unexpected thrown of a tender childhood into a mature world I wasn't prepared for. Treated as a mature person when I wasn't and dealing with incomprehensible adult problems gave me a nasty shock that I had to get over with no help but mine.