Before I sat down at my computer typing out my essay for what I don’t believe in, I had no idea what I was going to write about. To be very honest, I wasn’t even thinking about this essay a whole lot. I figured that whatever I decided to talk about, it’s going to be easy. So maybe I don’t need to worry about it. I could just lay down, maybe eat some food, watch some CoryxKenshin, and sure enough I’ll get everything down. Days went by, not a single thought rushed through my head about the essay. That was until right now in this moment as I’m sitting here in the darkness of my room, just typing away. I figured I could talk about my perspective on relationships but I wasn’t sure that was something I wanted to go into depth about. After that thought just passed by me, *BAM*. Something clicked to me almost instantly. “I know what I could talk about !” I said to myself. “I’m going to talk about my belief system on drugs!” I hesitated for a bit because of everything I have been through involving that type of stuff. But I thought what’s the harm in doing it ? It’ll make do for a good essay.

High school, a point in everyone’s life where they feel as if they have to do something they don’t feel like doing to try and feel accepted into some sort of clique or some type of friend group. A point in people’s lives where they feel as if they need some type of escape from all of the drama and bullshit that they encounter on an everyday basis. But of course, when I mean “people” I talk about myself. I used to be that type of person where I wanted to fit in so bad just to have people in my proximity. The only reason why this is how I was is because I didn’t have a lot of friends back middle school. But anyways, I had a couple of friends in the beginning of high school that we’re with me till the very end. But along with those friends, there was only one friend group that had really changed everything for me. The more I hung out with this new friend group of mine, the more I started to not be myself anymore. I started to do things that I never would’ve done in my life such as cut class, be late to class, not turn in assignments, etc. But the one thing that I know I would have never done was drugs. At the time, I never knew that three of the people from my friend group has had experience with smoking and taking edibles. But since I was now apart of this little group of mine, they made me think about what it would be like to do those things too. At the time, I was also going through a couple of things that I felt like weed could be the comfort that I so desperately desired. Just anything that could take my mind off of things. I also felt like maybe if I do it just once, they would think that I was apart of them.

One day, I finally got the opportunity to feel like I really do belong in this group once and for all. One of my friends ended up giving me an edible that was wrapped in a black plastic bag. I ended up saving it for when I got home, grabbed my skateboard and rode around my block. I pulled it out of my pocket and I said to myself “Well, here goes nothing” and took multiple bites. “Hm, I don’t really feel anything” I whispered to myself as the cold breeze hit against my skin. A couple of minutes went by and I was absolutely out of it. I remember looking at the sky for ten minutes straight absolutely dumb-founded and the stupidest look on my face. After a couple of more minutes looking at the sky I decided to walk back home and go to bed because I did not feel well at all. After that experience, I never had another experience with an edible ever.

A couple of months after that, I haven’t had any experiences with drugs until the ending of my sophomore year and beginning of my junior year when I was introduced to vaping because I thought the feeling was actually pretty nice and I didn’t really see no real harm. I used to vape every day and I would often start my day off by vaping. But I stopped quickly because my parents ended up finding out and we had a long talk about it. I felt so ashamed of myself and I was so upset that it never occurred to me what smoking was actually doing to my mental health along with my physical health. Now because of my vaping experiences, I sometimes have difficulty walking up the stairs without being out of breath and I can’t really run as fast as how I used to.

Now that I am a first year college student, I am proud to say that I no longer believe that any type of drug can provide an escape route from reality or comfort, but instead can damage one’s brain, physical and mental health. Once you start, it will be hard to stop. Whenever I found myself stressed, going through a hard time or may even be sad at times, I resorted to more healthier ways to cope with things such as listening to music, yoga, sports, drawing, and sometimes journalism. Sure you may feel like being high can “take the pain away” like people say. It’s only a matter of hours before you snap back into reality and realize that whatever the problem was that you tried to escape from will still be there waiting right in front of you. So I share this message to whoever may read this. If you ever feel like drugs can save you, make you feel like it’s your only resort to happiness or even if you feel like it’ll make you be “cool”, just know that there are most definitely healthier ways to cope.

When I was little I always used to wonder how babies were made. Especifically how I was made. Since I was like six or seven years old I didn’t have access to technology like I do now. Plus I used to live in the Dominican Republic and over there it was harder to get some things. So I went ahead and ask my mom and the conversation went like this:

Me:  ¿Mami como papi y tú me hicieron?

Mom: ¿Por qué la pregunta mi niña?

Me: Solo curiosidad porque quiero saber.

Mom: Pues mira, antes de tu nacer yo tenía un deseo grande de comerme un Hot Dog, y pues tu padre me hizo uno pero antes de entrarle la salchicha al Hot Dog te dibujo a ti y luego me lo comí, y así fue como quedé embarazada de ti y después naciste. 

Me: Ohhh, Interesante!

I went ahead and believed what she told me because like I said I didn’t have access to technology so I couldn’t search it up. 

A year or two pass by and the teacher in school starts teaching about reproduction in my science class. The teacher was explaining how exactly babies were made (the scientific explanation, not my mom’s explanation) and she was saying what needed to happen in order for a baby to be born. 

Before she started teaching she asked the whole class about how we thought babies were made and a bunch of my classmates raised their hands to tell their little stories about how babies were made. I remember one said “Un pajarito me recogió y me llevó donde mami y papi”, and of course I said what my mom told me because I believed it. 

The teacher went ahead and told us how our parents lied to us but it was understandable because we were kids and we wouldn’t understand the right way babies were made or, our mindsets were just not ready to hear the true story about how babies were made. 

We all got curious and asked her.

She started explaining and teaching us about reproduction, egg cells and sperm cells. All things that had to do with reproduction. All students also had a science book that was a requirement for the class and the explanation was also in the book more detailed. 

I was really interested in that topic since it was nothing like my mom told me in the past. I spent all day thinking about that and I couldn’t get it off my mind. I felt kind of upset because my mom lied to me and I believed it. I mean as a child not knowing anything about that, who wouldn’t?

That same day I went home and the first thing I told my mom was that they taught me about reproduction that day. My mom went ahead and asked me what did they taught me and the conversation went like this:

Mom:  ¿Y que te enseñaron ?

Me: Me enseñaron como hacen los bebés, Y adivina que!

Mom:  ¿Que paso?

Me: No fue nada como me dijiste!

Mom: hahaha, Mi amor, eso te lo dije porque aun estabas muy chiquita para hablar sobre ese tema. Pero si me alegra mucho que ya sepas como.

Me: Si pero como quiera, me sentí un poco mal porque creí en la explicación que me habías dicho, e incluso hasta lo dije en la clase en frente de todos mis compañeros. 

Mom: -she laughs-  ¿Y que te dijeron?

Me: Pues nada, mis compañeros también tienen historias diferentes sobre el tema y no eran verdad obviamente. 

Mom: Ah que bien!

Until this day I remember that like it was yesterday. It really meant something to me because I believed my mom’s story for about 2 years and then got the real explanation about how babies were made. I still sit in my bed and think about how innocent my mind was to believe what my mom told me. I mean what kid wouldn’t believe their mom at that age?

Even though I was kind of upset with that, I am glad she did tell me that, because it made me imagine things like “how did my dad know how to draw me?” “did I come out exactly like he drew me?” “with what he drew me in a sausage?”. Those are the types of things that I’m glad for, she made me explore my imagination and even though she answered my question with a lie, let’s say, that little lie made me have more questions until I got the real explanation. 

As you can tell if you read until this far is that I used to believe that babies were made how mom told me, which clearly they’re not and now I don’t. I feel like the day I have kids I hope they don’t come up with a question like I did at a young age because then I guess Imma have to use my mom’s little lie on that until they grow older.  At the end of the day it was useful that mom told me that because even though I was a curious little girl wanting to know everything but not having the resources to search and investigate everything I wanted to know I had to trust my mom thinking every question I asked her she was answering me with the truth. But in one way I was kind of mad because what if in school they never taught me that? I would still believe babies were made like that and it’s like do you know the type of thoughts that come to my mind when I think about what if i would still believe in what my mom told me? 

I mean imagine if I would’ve grown old and wanted to have a kid what was i going to do? Tell my future husband to draw a baby in a sausage and then I will eat it hoping I’ll get pregnant which was obviously not going to happen. 

By writing this essay I talked to my mom about it because I did not know what to write about. I sat down in bed and I talked to her and asked her what I could write about what I believed and now I don’t anymore. She was the one who reminded me about that babies story she told me when I was little, so I gotta say it was kind of fun writing this because as I was writing I was telling her what I was writing. It’s such a funny and sad little story because it is funny because I believed in that actually but it makes me kind of sad because I miss being that innocent child, always asking questions about everything, always believing everything I was told either by my mom, dad, sister or grandparents, even teachers. Even though I see the truth now and don’t believe in most of the things I used to believe in while I was a child, it’s emotional seeing this, I was better off believing fake stories than seeing the whole truth about things. Especially now, the world has become a not so good place, and children don’t deserve to get their fantasies/imagination ruined just because of the world we live in. Even though my story only had to do with how babies were made, there are a bunch of other stories in what I used to believe in while I was a kid that now I don’t, and that’s the sad part. Writing this essay took me on a journey I could say. It gave me all types of flashbacks about when I used to live in The Dominican Republic, when I didn’t know what technology was, etc. I hope you enjoyed reading this essay as much as I enjoyed writing it.