# You Know That Annoying Type: Always Elbowing To Front And Center

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You know the *type*, we’ll do.

First to stand when the plane lands, closest spot facing the tour guide, front and center in all photos — whether it’s a baby shower or a funeral.

Unbearably irritating.

But behind that pushiness was a story I never expected.

It goes back to my college days.  
There was one in the dorms who never shied away from racing to the prime spot — for *everything*. Annoyed as we were, the rest of us still got a good laugh, vividly mimicking his antics behind his back.

Then, one day, it all changed — *for me*.

It was a Saturday evening, and I was minding my own business — sipping from a smuggled beer at a campus hideout. He walked in by accident, holding *one* in his hand. We barely knew each other, but my private rumination quickly turned into a *drinking-with-a-buddy* ritual.

Since, I’d long contemplated what could possibly drive his *behavior*, half bottle in, I had courage to ask him *directly*.

“Why the *fuck* you’re like this?”

He didn’t understand *where* I was coming from.

Reading out a few case files with *indisputable* facts cleared the matter.

Then, *what* he said next changed everything — the way I saw him, how quickly I judged people, and how blind I’d been to the *silent* weight others might carry.

## **The Story Behind That Pushiness**

This was eight years ago. He was twelve. She was seven — his little sister. He loved her more than anything. She was the only one who made him feel like a hero.

Every afternoon, she’d be waiting for him outside her school gate —one hand always holding onto a Barbie doll like it was sacred.

She was crazy about barbie then — a couple of years ago, it was dinosaurs. Now her world was made of glitter and plastic heels.

That winter, he secretly peeked into her **Letter to Santa** when she was asleep hugging a *Ballerina Barbie*.

*“Dear Santa, I don’t want new doll this year. I want to go to Big Barbie party. Please please please”*

That *big* event was set for the day after Christmas. Tickets would go on sale in two days.

That morning, he skipped school and boarded a train downtown to make her secret wish come true.

The ticket booth was swarmed — impatient parents yelling. Elbows flying. He stood there for a long time… *hesitant*.

Then he turned around. Empty handed.

That Christmas Eve she cried for hours.

*“There’s always the next Christmas, right? I’ll take you next year,”* he wiped her tears.

She believed him with teary but hopeful eyes.  
*“Promise?”*  
*“I promise,”* he lied.

Spring came. Then summer. Then something changed.

It started with a cough that wouldn’t stop.

The pneumonia was sudden. She was so *small* in that bed, surrounded by big machines.

She still believed in his *promise*… till her *last day*.  
And he hated himself for it.

It’s been years now.  
He’s first in line for everything — even the things that don’t matter.

**Sometimes the only moment that stays… is the one you *missed*.**

![](https://cdn.hashnode.com/res/hashnode/image/upload/v1754166446328/1285ab5c-9e7f-4bab-88aa-587de9ef4e22.png align="center")

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## **Author’s Note**

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