As a child, I didn't really have much of a life to look forwarded too. Yet again, if I tell my story, it may seem like nothing. OK well, It will 99% seem like nothing if you compare my life to someone Else's.
I have parents, a sibling and a once, living pet. I have a home, a bed, education, food, technology such as a computer, phone, Ipod etc, I buy clothes, my parents have money and well, seems like that's it. From one way to look at it, I was lucky to have parents -both of them. I wasn't starving, I didn't feel cold, I had a roof over my head. Some things that people could dream of and wish to have. Especially if you're someone having so little. But, there is more to that than the regular "You have a home, parents and food. Who cares? Your life must be great!" But, is it truly? There is more to life that just being able to sleep in a bed or worrying about what you might eat the next day. There is always more to the story, than just the synopsis. You must read on, to truly understand.
Now, this gets personal. Then again, should I really be telling the people of the Internet about my life? Well. I need to vent my feelings, thoughts and myself. As I type each word, sentence and paragraph, past memoires run in my head which I needed to overcome.
Once upon a time..- No. This isn't a fairy tale, not some made up story, and defiantly not fake. The only thing that is similar between my story and a fairy tale, is having that "happy ending" Well, maybe. Depends on how you see. OK moving on.
Truth be told, I don't know how to begin my story. How I should start it, maybe even how I must end it. Right now, at this moment, I am kind of just stalling time as I figure out how to begin. Now, there are gonna be a lot of paragraphs. Ironic. When I had to type essays, I had a hard time creating a paragraph. Yet when it comes to something personal, I just can't seem to stop. Well, here I go, beginning what I said earlier. (Or you could just read everything above if you didn't know).
I am 15 years old, turning 16 soon. I was born on October 2nd, 1996 (29 days early of my holiday). I am currently going into grade 11 and in the future, I want to be a Social Worker. Ryerson University is where I want to go to get my BSW (Bachelor of Social Work). I am shy, too shy as I don't like talking to people unless I've known them previously. I have a lot of phobias. I've been broken hearted but I am 100% over it. I wear glasses. I am NEVER in style with the trend at the high school I am currently going too. Oh those shoes, that are "in style", you won't see me where them. Those jewelry, electronic devices, clothes etc. I won't wear them and be a ''wannabe" or a follower. No. You will see me and my best friend, in the corner, eating our lunch and just enjoy our privacy as we laugh at those who try so hard to fit in since we are ourselves. Now, enough of my present. This is my past.
When I was a kid, a child, a young adult (if you may) or my favourite, a "youngin", life was something I didn't really want to think about. I was scared about tomorrows, dreading my yesterdays, and fearing the present. I wasn't always the happy one so I was the opposite; sad, lonely, depressed, suicidal and there could be so much more adjectives that described my feelings and myself as well. I wasn't doing well in my classes from Grade 4-8. Especially in math, where I was on the edge of failing. Barely passing. 56%, 58%, 53 %. And I was happy just getting a 60%. Maybe even higher. Though I always did well in International Languages such as French and Italian (Ever since watching the "Big Bang Theory", I think of saying it as "..Eyetalian". Oh Sheldon.) Anyways, I was, I guess you could say, a "bad kid" in elementary school, which, had the dumbest name. But I won't say. I nearly got suspended, twice for the same thing. Forging. Since I got bad grades and marks in my subjects, especially math, how could I let my parents sign my test without getting yelled at and beaten? So, there was a simple answer. Sign it yourself, which I did from Grade 4-7. I used my dads signature since it was so easy to do. Until, my fourth grade teacher pulled me out of class and questioned the signature on my test. Then there was an interview requested and then, yelling and beating. Many people would say that you're getting abused but, in my case, it was corporal punishment. In Canada, you are able to "discipline" your child from ages 2-13. Something I learnt in Civics class in Grade 10. Unless, it was more than just discipline and you are not really getting abused.
Lost train of thought. I will continue Later
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