When you’re young and naive you will believe anything your parents tell you. “If you don’t do as your told you are going to boarding school” often resulted in a vast improvement in my behaviour, at least until I wasn’t allowed to watch Cartoon Network or had to do my homework. One memory is a classic example of being lied to, but this one in particular oddly resulting in thinking I am some form of young female messiah.

In an attempt to ‘self soothe’ my little aches, bumps and bruises, my mum told me that I had the ability to cure myself with my own two hands. Little did she know, that instead of the sense of relief that I was now able to get rid of any of my own pains, I was actually under the impression that I had control over all aches and all pains. And it was I who could also cure this pain, with my two ‘special’ little hands. I was like a small human paracetamol. Move aside pharmaceuticals, the ‘young female messiah’ sheriff’s in town.

Even though I was young, I was old enough to have several crushes and wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to impress them. With my new found knowledge, I paced the playground in search for an injury that I could cure and wondered what I could get in return.

After a few days, I noticed there was a boy who had a small graze on his leg from playing football. Recognising this boy to be one of my classmates, I went over, slightly reluctant to confess of my ability but wanting the praise of his successful recovery also. “Does that hurt? ‘Coz, you know, I could get rid of that and make it better, I have healing hands…” In hindsight, this is probably not the way to get a boy to like you, this is the way to get a boy to run away from you. Which is what he did. Watching that boy run away with a leg injury, like he was one half of a 3-legged race, did somewhat damage my ‘rep’ and question the coolness of my healing abilities. Maybe it could have gone differently if I would have used a slightly cooler opening sentence, like “Sup. I don’t normally do this sort of thing for just anybody, but I can sort out that unsightly little scratch you have going on south of your knee. Holla if you want it sorted, I’ll be over by the hop scotch..”

Needless to say the idea of being a young female Messiah did not end well and I spent the rest of the year probably being identified as ‘the new age child with a rather high opinion of herself’.

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