The First Critic

When I was 9 years old, I was hospitalized for the first time because of diabetes.

There were four other girls in the room with me, and I quickly became friends with one of them. Her name was Marina, and mine is Maria. She was two years older than me.

We both loved drawing. Marina attended art school, while I was completely self-taught.

One morning, I drew some horses. One sheet was full of sketches, and the other was a clean, finished version. I was so excited to show them to my new friend.

Marina looked at my drawings, smirked, and told me they were bad.

Later that same day, she started whispering with the other girls in the room. After that, they would constantly leave together to talk without me. Deliberately. Every time, leaving me alone.

That's how I spent the rest of my stay in the hospital.

For a long time, I couldn't understand what had happened. I hadn't offended anyone or argued with anyone.

Years later, I realized something.

When someone ignores you, excludes you, or talks about you behind your back, it isn't always because you've done something wrong.

Sometimes the reason lies on the other side of the story. 🖤