Pride is a relatively new friend of mine, I must admit, one I am still getting to know.

Over the years, I've met and become familiar with many emotions.

Sadness and numbness have been here a very, very long time.

Euphoria comes and goes like a popular roommate who spends most of their time out with others rather than sticking around to hang with me.

Perhaps they aren't a fan of my other friends.

Anyway... Pride is new, yet old to me and I'll explain why.

Pride was someone I had seen in the past, many times.

I do remember my desperation when I was younger to see him in my parents' eyes.

All I ever wanted was even the slightest glimpse of her.

It felt like love, to me, I think was the problem.

Because confusing Pride with Love had me running to find it wherever I could.

Places I'm not proud of but places I thought I needed.

In the process, I still am not quite sure what Love looks like, now, not quite yet.

Emotions in general are quite a blur.

Eventually, I learnt that desperate struggle to find Pride hiding behind my parents' eyes or the eyes of men was... Utterly useless.

It wasn't enough, not anymore.

Not when I didn't know them in truth, not when I had never felt pride by and in myself.

I learnt to separate Pride and Love, one from the other.

And I found that she was a part of me, just buried quite deep and hard to bring out of her shell, like most of my other emotions.

I've learnt that they like to come out when I'm writing something new, not when I've gotten a good grade my parents enjoy.

That is their pride and certainly not mine, not anymore.

Seeing him from anyone else's eyes just doesn't feel as real.

It reminds me of a time when I was searching for her, not knowing she was within all along.

One of my favourite memories together was when he popped up for quite a bit as I decided that I was going to love my body instead of fighting it for not being "perfect enough", all those years ago.

It brings a smile to my face every time I remember how long they stayed with me, held my hand, told me with full certainty that everything would be okay.

Pride might not be Love, not by a long shot but she is eager to help me find it and I'm grateful to them for that.

He and I don't see each other often.

But each time we do, I welcome them in like an old friend.

I'm glad to know them at all and I can't wait for its next visit.

I haven't accomplished a lot in my life, still there's some things I feel prideful for. A few years ago I got seven short stories published in an anthology that was then distributed to three libraries across Australia.

It's a smaller matter, but I'm quite a good Tetris player, or more specifically, Tetris 99, a more modern varient of the classic puzzler which was released three years ago. Some people struggle to win a single match; I've claimed over a thousand.

I'm not accustomed to hearing others say that they're proud of me, and when such an event does occur, it's in my nature to doubt their words.

I feel a lot of pride for family and friends, in particular my brother, who's overcome many hardships and has worked so hard to end up where he is today. I wish I was as strong as he is.