Burwood Girls High School2012 Trial ExaminationPaper 1CreativeI grew up in the community, so I had connection. The town I grew up in wasnt large to begin with, but our house seemed to swallow it. Before they moved her, my parents accumulated something of a fortune and moved out to the countryside, where I was born and raised. It was a whirlwind of a childhood. My parents were always in the spotlight back at home, always participating in one thing or another and so, obviously, I had to join in. My mum was a part of every committee, every community board group that was offered in my little town. Dad tagged along too, sticking himself to the richer folks in town and then joining them for golfing dates and drinks. And I usually just sat there, surrounded by other bored children, whose misfortune led them to be dragged to yet another gathering, and together, we waited for the evening to end.It wasnt too bad. I learned how to act around different people, how to read faces and to interpret silences. I realised when to change topics and when to introduce new ones. I became fluent in small talk and forced laughter, a language and an art mastered only by a few. I understood, and so, I became well-liked. People knew of me, I mostly knew them. Though really, I was known because my parents were known. Their reputation succeeded me wherever I went sports clubs, primary school, high school. Youre the Roberts son arent you? I should have known, just as handsome as your father and as polite as your mother! Wonderful people they areI learned about Mum and Dad through other people too. How generous and kind they were. How fashionable and lovely my mother was, how funny and athletic my father was. Now, I often wonder what they learned about me through others, but I just brush off these thoughts, and carry on.They never really had time for me, so I never really had time for them. All throughout high school, where more and more young people showed up to traffic meetings and book clubs, I was never alone. Friends used to drop by, coming in and out of the house during the weekends and often after school afternoons. I grew up in the community, so I had connection. But I wish I didnt.The garish smiles, the hooting laughter. The overwhelming scent of perfume when unknown women came to pinch my cheeks and coo into my face, even though I had grown taller than most of them. The stinging flesh when men patted me on the back, hard. It was like a brash, gaudy show and I was sick of it. My parents thrived in this world of endless contact and of vapid chitchat but it just wasnt for me. I tried it, but the bitter taste left me sick to my stomach.So, when I turned eighteen, I left the town where I grew up. I took a random bus to a populated city, a ten hour trip that left my legs sore and my head throbbing. My accommodation was a cramped, dusty apartment on the citys edge and my income depended on the flow of customers into the little caf. I did have money, but I preferred to work for it myself. Instead of afternoon guests, I took walks through the park and I sat on the wooden benches and I watched. Reading became less of a wish, of a longing and more of a pastime, something that I did with a fervour and a passion that I didnt realise I had, now that I had the time. Even sleeping in was a thrill. The remnants that remained of my childhood fell away, crumbling away into dust and forgotten memories. Memories of my mother and my father come to me now in the words of what others have said, about her loveliness, her kindness, his humour, his athleticism. I learned how to appreciate quiet afternoons indoors, how to observe the silence of the night and to love the muted chatter of my neighbours. I realised when to reach out to others and when to be alone. I understood, and so, I became myself. Friendships, I soon found, were built up, accumulating over days and weeks and seeping into the everyday. They used to be forced upon, now they were worked at. I wasnt alone, and I wasnt lonely. Beyond the confines of the community, I grew and loved and laughed and I felt happiness, a stirring, bubbling sensation in my heart that I felt from the moment I opened my eyes in the morning to when I closed them at night. I left the community, so I had connection.