Noches

I learned how to walk during the night.
I took a little longer than your average toddler, because Mom said I was scared.

I started out enthusiastic... I guess like most toddlers. I'd grip on to shit and stand up. This would excite my mom, and she would encourage me to walk towards her. Just as I'd take a step towards Mom, my older brother would run over to me and knock me down.

Mom: It was weird. He'd see you stand up, and then just push you with all his might when he'd see you get the courage to take a step towards me. You'd topple over so hard and he'd laugh out loud. It was kind of funny.

Mom tried changing my brother's crappy attitude by telling him he should be a good older brother and encourage me to walk, TEACH me how it's done, not injure me.

They had a little song they'd sing to me in spanish: Andar, andar, patitas de ubar.
Walk, walk, little spider legs.
This only caused an extra issue-- my brother would sing "Andar, andar" just like Mom (well, as harmoniously as he could, he was about 3.5 at the time), which would give me enough confidence to begin walking (apparently, I only tried walking IF they sang this song), then he'd betray my trust by speeding up the "patitas de ubar!" so he'd once again catch me off guard to knock the shit out of me.
This happened EVERY. TIME.
Mom sings the song. I start wobbling over to her. Rafa runs into the room and tackles me to the floor. I cry and refuse to move. Rafa leaves laughing like a maniac.

Mom says I eventually opted for throwing myself onto the floor each time Rafa entered a room, just to prevent him from throwing me.
I'd just chill on the floor-- no crying, no fussing... just chill on the floor and know not to stand.
I finally regained trust by walking ONLY when it'd be late at night and Rafa would be knocked out in bed. I'd cautiously look both ways, make sure NO ONE was watching, and then I'd proceed to waddle around and do my thing. Once it would come time to be awake at the same time as Rafa, I'd spend my time splayed on the floor (to this day, there is nothing more comfortable for me than laying on my stomach on the hard floor)... or sitting like a good baby.
I didn't show Rafa my skills until I was sturdy enough to not eat shit at the slightest push.

THAT is how I learned to walk.

I apply this mentality with everything.
To this day, I am cautious when meeting people. I don't loosen up and show my true personality until I feel safe enough, confident enough that they won't just lunge at me and tackle me to the floor... metaphorically speaking (because, really, PLEASE try tackling me in real life... let's see how that ends).
Often, I just plop on the floor to avoid anyone from knocking me off my feet.
You can't push me if you don't know I can stand.

But then there are those few moments when I feel secure, and let my guard down... and I begin to show people who I really am. Then out of fucking nowhere, here comes the fucking gridiron gang and pummels me to the floor.
I'm left dazed and confused... gasping for breath... tears of rage and hurt streaming down my face... wondering WHY THE FUCK I made myself vulnerable like that.

Trust NO ONE... I know that's what I should stick to... but no, I'm soft. I'm nice. I trust.
And so, I get injured.

"Well... there is one thing. We feel you don't talk enough. Like... we'd really like to know what you think. What little you show is interesting, it'd be good if you shared more often."
And like a fucking idiot, I shared... like the fucking idiot "target" kid at a slumber party.

I'm so angry with myself for falling for that shit.
What a fucking idiot I always prove to be.

Without much fuss, I recoil... and refuse to ever move in that person's presence.
I am never the same towards them. A self-preservation thing, I'm sure.