I felt that it was better to judge people so as not to have to love them, because some people don’t deserve a chance. Laura was my dad’s first girlfriend after my parents’ divorce.I believed that what was missing was a lack of understanding between our two cultures, and that acceptance of our differences would come only with knowledge.My first impression of Cuba was the absence of commercialism.I learned more about these truths in my sophomore year of high school, when I was among a group of students selected to visit Cuba.My grandmother was born in Cuba, yet I had never thought to research my own heritage.The first three years of our relationship were characterized solely by my hatred toward her, manifested in my hurting her, each moment hurting myself twice as much.From the moment I laid eyes on her, she was the object of my unabated hatred, not because of anything she had ever done, but because of everything she represented.She understood my anger and my confusion, and Laura put her faith in me, although she had every reason not to. Instead, over the next two years, the one-dimensional image of her in my mind began to take the shape of a person. She became a woman who, like me, loves and drinks a lot of coffee; who, unlike me, buys things advertised on infomercials.To her, I was essentially a good person, just confused and scared; trying to do her best, but just not able to get a hold of herself. Three weeks ago, I saw that same Mother Teresa quote again, but this time I smiled.Laura never gave up on me, and the chance she gave me to like her was a chance that changed my life.Because of this, I know the value of a chance, of having faith in a person, of seeing others as they wish they could see themselves. Lighthearted me hangs upside-down, off the back of my recliner. Plus, I was thinking of college as a social clean slate.