Huy

          It was about seven months ago. I got to know about this kid on my bus since the starting of the year. I did not know much about him at the start, only his name and his class. He had glasses, with mid length hair. From his face, I could tell that he was an Asian. After a few conversations with him, I discovered that he was Vietnamese, and that he was 8 days older than me despise the fact that he was a head shorter than me. Every one that did not know about his age must think that he was 6 or so. His actions, his thoughts, the way he spoke and his physical appearance made him look like a 6 year old. I treated him more like a friend back then, a dear friend. He was kind, but mentally and physically weak.

          I had been quite a while since I tried to make him stronger, both mentally and physically. I did by training him; make him run laps, telling him stuff that could make him become brave. I thought that I would succeed, but god I was wrong. Every time I tried to trigger the anger, the strong side of him, I failed. He just cried off; never get mad like what the other teenagers do. I finally figured out why. His parents were behind all of this. Since Huy started to understand languages, his parents were too over protective about him. They never let him walk to my house alone even though it was just a 3 minute walk. They never let him go to the deep end of the swimming pool even with a life jacket on. They never let him take off his sweater when he was playing basketball and was almost dying from the heat. They were too over protective. I knew that those parents just wanted to keep their children safe, but what they had done was the opposite. In the future, Huy would turn into an adult with no social ability if they keep on doing this to him. I was a good friend. I tried not to ruin the friendship between Huy and I, while training him making him stronger, and have more ability.

          He was a good friend, but he had hard time understanding. He could not understand my actions, my words, and my thoughts. He did not understand why I needed to trigger the angry side of him. I wanted him to see how strong he could be, not the weak and useless side. We joked around like friends, but other times I was his teacher. I was his teacher in basketball, swimming, bravery and many things. In the past 2 months, I succeeded in triggering his bravery, but it had not fully ignited yet. I would not stop trying, until he becomes a strong person, like the others that I know of, and like me.

          I knew that I could have been nice to him and all, but I explained to him. Being nice was how you break someone, because they would always expect someone to be there for them. Being mean was how you make someone stronger or break them, because the ones that wanted to become better, would try; the ones that were weak, would fall and break. Being mean was how you make someone strong. A good example would be the military forces. He claimed that he understood, but he did not.

          I hoped that he could see this one day, and then he would understand me.