Emilie Kundycki

My Metamorphosis

When I was twelve years old, my parents filed for divorce. I was young, insecure, and horribly shy, so my

immediate reaction was to blame myself. At first, all I could do was cry. I told my friends and everyone I

knew that I was leaving, yet I still hadn't accepted it myself. In fact, it took me almost four years to

recognize the change in my life.

When I first asked my mother why she and my father were separated, I got a glossed-over version: my

parents no longer loved each other. Being a child, I refused that answer; after all, I considered such a

thing blasphemy at the time. Obviously, they argued over me, the awkward and unintelligent daughter I

deemed myself to be. In my mind, they argued about my looks, my voice, my grades, about everything.

My self-esteem crashed at the time as my mind went through something akin to shock. This greatly

affected me at one of the most important parts of my transition into a new life: my arrival in the United

States.

When my mom, brother, and I first drove away from the Atlanta airport, I focused on one thing: the

signs. They were a different color, one which I was unfamiliar with. It scared me more than anything

else. That color instilled a feeling of finality upon me: nothing would ever be the same.

I spent a large amount of time crying. My mom tried everything to cheer me up, but I was stuck on my

own insecurities. In actuality, the realization of my guilt --or lack thereof-- depended upon myself. No

one else could save me.

It took a lot to rebuild myself upon my arrival, partially because I made no move to do so. I avoided

everyone around me and became known as a loner. This all changed when I first met Rachel, one of my

dearest friends.

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I first met Rachel in chorus, a class I took to improve myself after my imagined guilt of driving my

parents apart through my horrible singing. However, it didn't help. Rachel, however, was the best in the

class, and, as one of the teachers put it, "a girl you want to hate but can't." Indeed, Rachel was different.

She looked past my facade and saw me for who I was: a hurt young girl. She pushed me to succeed, to

believe in myself. However, nothing worked until she convinced me to audition for a solo.

When I opened my mouth, a voice I didn't recognize came out. It took a while, but I realized that voice

was my own, and it was beautiful. I finally accepted that I could sing, that my voice wasn't so horrible.

And then, the barriers broke, until I stopped blaming myself for everything.

Since then, I have grown tremendously. Not only am I a prized member of the chorus, but I'm known

around the school as myself- an awkward, shy, but unique person who exudes confidence.

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