ADYNATON

     Famous poet and politician, Pablo Neruda once said “Someday, somewhere – anywhere, 

unfailingly, you’ll find yourself, and that, and only that can be that happiest or the bitterest hour 

of your life.” A little known fact about Pablo Neruda, that most people do not know, is that Pablo 

Neruda is not even his real name. Ricardo Eliecer Neftalí Reyes Basoalto is the man hiding 

under the alias. In 1923, he had to publish his first book with a name written on the cover that his 

family would not recognize because of their disapproval of his career. I do not know Pablo 

Neruda personally or know much about him at all – but I can guess that that moment was the 

bitterest hour of his life. What makes the story of this man so great is that at the end of this hour 

in his life, the book ended up making his famous and gave him the chance to pursue his writing 

career. What I like about this quote most of all, is that even if you find yourself and it happens to 

be the hardest moment of your life, it will not last forever. A new hour will come.

     Being only sixteen, I am still discovering who I am and finding myself. I may not know it 

but I could possibly be in the thirtieth minute of my hour... or maybe the first. Some peoples’ 

hours are longer than others are. It could take someone a lifetime to figure out him or herself. 

Being yourself does not mean being what your parents want you to be, or being the person who 

does what their friends tell them to do. Defining you will be the hardest thing you ever have to 

do but being you will be the easiest.

     I might be a little too young and naïve, but I believe that the hardships and battles we face 

in life, shape us into who we are. When I was four years old, I remember this one certain day I 

went to visit my grandma. The only reason I remember this one day is because it has scarred me 

for the rest of my life. Besides the rain, Washington state has the best weather; the air is always 

the perfect temperature, year-round. Being the rambunctious four year old I was, I was always 

outside running around and climbing things. My parents always made me play outside so I could 

kill some of the energy I had. Not only was I a wild child, I was spoiled. I owned a beautiful, 

pink Huffy bike with training wheels and tassels coming off the handlebars.

     My grandma is the most overprotective woman on the planet Earth and if you asked 

anyone who knows her, they would tell you the same exact thing. She called my name from the 

porch with my matching pink helmet in her hands. I ran over to she can clip it on and assuage her 

worried self. What makes this day so memorable is that when she was clipping my helmet, she 

clipped a piece of skin under my chin, making it bleed. Long story short, I never, ever let my 

grandma or anyone else clip my helmet for me. 

     That stupid story did not help me find myself in any way, but it did shape me into 

someone who has lost trust in any one who clips my helmet. A significant time in my life was 

exactly one year ago, when I was beginning sophomore year. Everyone goes through a phase one 

point or another and this was when I went through mine. I am not talking about puberty- it was 

something else, something different. 

     When I do not feel good or I am feeling down, I will usually do anything to get over it. 

When it comes to feeling down in the dumps, I am like a doctor. For me, the best solution is 

eating comfort food like a pint of Ben and Jerry’s and being with my friends. But when summer 

ended in 2014, the next few months were miserable. It started when one of my best friends fell 

into a deep depression and tried committing suicide. I could not imagine how she felt during that 

time but all I wanted was to be there for her. The night it happened, I remember sitting by her 

hospital bed and rubbing my hand on her back just bawling my eyes out. I blamed myself for not 

being there for her in the first place. I blamed myself for her being depressed. I blamed myself 

for all the depression in the world. I hated myself for it.

     During that same time, I lost my other best friend of five years because I got mad that she 

was not there for our friend. What I came to realize is that I was also a little disappointed she was 

not aware of what was going on with me. I felt alone, and confused with everything changing 

around me. I was spiraling down and realizing all the things that was wrong with me. I asked 

myself constantly, “Why was I bigger than my friends? How come I do not have the clothes, or 

the perfect hair my friends have? What is wrong with me?” At night, I locked myself in my room 

and cried for hours. It became almost normal to feel the way I did. I could not go to my friend 

because we were not friends and I could not eat that pint of Ben and Jerry’s because I wanted to 

be as thin as everyone else. I never even told my family but my mom knew I was acting 

different.

     What pulled me out of that rut was not my friends, family, Ben, or Jerry- It was myself. 

Every scar and every night I fell asleep with tears streaming down my face only made me 

stronger. I focused on me and I invested my time into things that made me feel good like soccer 

and painting. That was the lowest, bitterest point in my life and I found a part about myself. I 

learned that I am better than being sad. I learned that am worth so much more. I learned to love 

myself. Whether those months represented only a minute or an entire hour of my life, it was hell, 

and I am glad it happened.