When I was seven, I was obsessed with one particular classmate. She was the only girl taller than me and she never let me forget it. She was allowed to wear colourful nail polish and had shiny Lelli Kelly shoes, while I had short, plain nails and had to make do with classic black Clarks.
That spring she got an iPhone, and deliberately shunned me for a while afterwards. I cried for hours, but I wasn’t confused. I understood, and even respected it.
Why would she grace me with her aura? I was lucky she let me sit at her table at all, even if it was only to taunt me for still bringing in a packed lunch. She was my best friend – I was always holding out hope that one day I would be hers.
Growing up neurodivergent, I struggled to recognise when someone was making fun of me. I had sat through the same anti-bullying assemblies as everyone else, but I could not understand what that looked like in practice. So each day I would come home upset from school, kick off my stupid, ugly Clarks shoes, and tumble on to the sofa with my little sister to watch My Little Pony: Friendship Is Magic.
I lived for that cartoon. It had all the things I loved: talking creatures, bright colours, catchy songs and a multitude of branded dolls, clothes and stationery that I begged my parents for. But what fascinated me most were the Elements of Harmony.
Each of the “Mane Six” ponies represented an “Element” that made her a good friend: honesty, kindness, laughter, generosity, loyalty and magic. I started assigning the Elements to my own friends, a little game I played in my head. One friend was definitely kindness.
Extract — continue reading at the source.
