I grew up in a biggish family. It’s in my blood. My dad is the youngest of seven; five sisters and a brother. Rarely do I see them as they’re on the other side of the world but they’re there somewhere.
My mum, on the other hand only had a brother, who lives here, in Perth. Like my parents, he has four boys.
For a while I was ‘surrounded by boys’. Well, that’s what it felt like to my 8-year-old self. I have two brothers both younger than me and now a sister. I swear I pulled out all of my eyelashes hoping that I would get a sister. Luckily it happened, because I then had to wait for them all to grow back!
We’re a very blonde family all my siblings and I have very pale skin and light hair. It must’ve come from my dad’s English side.
People usually say that the eldest get the good/smart genes and are much better at everything than the others.
Seriously though, if I have the good genes I feel very sorry for my siblings.
Unfortunately, it’s the second youngest that seems to have the best of the lot; Perfect teeth,
sporty,
musical,
pretty eyes,
creative, fantastic artist,
and the best out of the family at maths.
The worst thing is that he doesn’t even need good teeth and pretty eyes because he’s only 9 and doesn’t even use them properly!
Yeah, I didn’t get the good genes.
I loved primary school; there weren’t many dull moments as I had more than enough friends I could hang out with. I went to a primary school in Perth. It was, and still is, a small school, with less than 400 students.
School was like any other. We played,
we learnt,
we experimented with what’s wrong and what’s right and we came home.
Our parents would ask how it went and by then we had forgotten it all.
The next day we did it over again.
In 2012, I was 10. That year we went on a month long trip to Papua New Guinea
The month there was filled with culture,
food,
pigs,
beaches,
and exploring.
Back at home it never felt the same.
In year 6 I struggled with friends. I made the mistake of having friends that are in separate groups. For 2 years straight one friend became very jealous and rather than enjoying the little time they seemed to have with me they spent it holding a grudge and fighting with me. 
Those were the endless days of arguing,
crying, 
making-up
and crying again about it later.
I thought those two years were the worst of my life. I followed after her and kissed her feet just so she wouldn’t be angry but it was no use. Some days I’ll hate myself for it, or I’ll hate her for it but now I don’t.
No, now I thank her.
It may sound strange but I thank her for what she has taught me.
My best friend taught me one of the greatest lessons of my life:
Toughen up, princess! You can’t just go around kissing other peoples feet before yours just so that were all happy.
Let go.
Stop worrying about everyone else and crying about why they won’t play with you or be nice to you. And even now I’m still learning that.
My best friend made me a better person and she doesn’t even know it. In high school I was able to use that knowledge to find the friends I have now.
Possum Hands 