Who am I?
So here goes.. question is, where to begin? Why not from the beginning..
I was born on June 28, 1986, in Beaufort, SC. Two and a half years later, inevitably, my parents, Ian and Kim, split up. My sister and I were juggled between my parents, not knowing what was going on, why this was happening, or if we were wanted at all. My sister has brown eyes, brown hair, and resembles my mother. I have blue eyes, brown hair, and resemble my mother as well. Of course, that leaves the question of where my "father" comes into it all. Due to the ultimate form of mistreatment, my sister and I were removed from the care of my parents at the ages of two and five. More importantly, we were separated from my mom's newest 'love' interest, as well as his iron fist. This is one aspect I am not sure I can ever forgive my mother for. Sometimes I wonder if she can even forgive herself, or if she even cares. She has never showed any signs of caring before. I have been told that showing no resemblance to my father could be more than just coincidence. My sister and I were eventually placed in a foster home. As we were thrown from foster home to foster home, my sister's only worry was protecting me. She wanted to protect me from everything, from the world. I believe she realized it was too late for her, but thought that I could still be saved. Sometimes I wish the roles had been reversed.
Soon, I was going to be adopted. As the competition around me unfolded, my sister could only watch as I was sought after and she was shown no interest at all. Soon, we would be forever separated. Fortunately, this was not the case, not yet at least. My grandparents saw what was happening and came to our rescue. They fought their way through court and gained custody of us. I don't think I will ever be able to show them how grateful I am. Ever. As we grew older, my sister's problems grew stronger. She became uncontrollable, and unruly, and she left. She left to live with my mother as soon as she could - the age of thirteen. Of all people, the one who ruined her life is the one she constantly sought acceptance from, and never received it. I wanted to tell her so badly, you cannot find acceptance in a monster. She wouldn't have listened. How could anyone expect her to. Much pain and devastation followed, as I was forced to sit back and watch as the ultimate rejection lead to her ultimate destruction. I am lucky to have resisted that path. These situations lead me to questions I had not payed as much attention to before: Who gave me the scar on my forehead? Where is my mother? How are my half-sisters? How many half-sisters do I have that I don't even know about? What about half-brothers? It turns out there are plenty of them, many unaccounted for, some adopted along the way. When shall I begin the search?
My father created a new life for himself in New Orleans. My sister somehow landed herself in California after all of this, is now married to a fugitive, and lives in poverty while raising money in the most self-demeaning way possible. I hear she is getting better. I hope so. My mom is missing. Last I heard she landed herself in jail. I wonder what happened to the two kids that she actually held on to. Well, tried to hold on to at least. Hard to raise children from a jail cell. I guess you could say I grew up an only child from about ten and on. I spent a few vacations in Florida, Maine, England, and Scotland. I enjoy playing video games with friends, and played computer games when I had time for them. Music is my savior. I played soccer for eleven years, and swam on a swim team for nine. Movies are great, and so is reading if I ever find the time. I spent most of my junior and senior year away from my house because of a horrible family situation, which I am glad to be away from now. I was never sick until I came to college, and now I am known for always being sick. I am very sensitive, and take rejection especially hard. I experienced it in a much greater form way too early in life. I hate the pressure society so nicely provides for us. I love my sister. I love my grandparents and always will, despite all that they have put me through in the past few years. I love good people, and I love people who love me back.
I was born on June 28, 1986, in Beaufort, SC. Two and a half years later, inevitably, my parents, Ian and Kim, split up. My sister and I were juggled between my parents, not knowing what was going on, why this was happening, or if we were wanted at all. My sister has brown eyes, brown hair, and resembles my mother. I have blue eyes, brown hair, and resemble my mother as well. Of course, that leaves the question of where my "father" comes into it all. Due to the ultimate form of mistreatment, my sister and I were removed from the care of my parents at the ages of two and five. More importantly, we were separated from my mom's newest 'love' interest, as well as his iron fist. This is one aspect I am not sure I can ever forgive my mother for. Sometimes I wonder if she can even forgive herself, or if she even cares. She has never showed any signs of caring before. I have been told that showing no resemblance to my father could be more than just coincidence. My sister and I were eventually placed in a foster home. As we were thrown from foster home to foster home, my sister's only worry was protecting me. She wanted to protect me from everything, from the world. I believe she realized it was too late for her, but thought that I could still be saved. Sometimes I wish the roles had been reversed.
Soon, I was going to be adopted. As the competition around me unfolded, my sister could only watch as I was sought after and she was shown no interest at all. Soon, we would be forever separated. Fortunately, this was not the case, not yet at least. My grandparents saw what was happening and came to our rescue. They fought their way through court and gained custody of us. I don't think I will ever be able to show them how grateful I am. Ever. As we grew older, my sister's problems grew stronger. She became uncontrollable, and unruly, and she left. She left to live with my mother as soon as she could - the age of thirteen. Of all people, the one who ruined her life is the one she constantly sought acceptance from, and never received it. I wanted to tell her so badly, you cannot find acceptance in a monster. She wouldn't have listened. How could anyone expect her to. Much pain and devastation followed, as I was forced to sit back and watch as the ultimate rejection lead to her ultimate destruction. I am lucky to have resisted that path. These situations lead me to questions I had not payed as much attention to before: Who gave me the scar on my forehead? Where is my mother? How are my half-sisters? How many half-sisters do I have that I don't even know about? What about half-brothers? It turns out there are plenty of them, many unaccounted for, some adopted along the way. When shall I begin the search?
My father created a new life for himself in New Orleans. My sister somehow landed herself in California after all of this, is now married to a fugitive, and lives in poverty while raising money in the most self-demeaning way possible. I hear she is getting better. I hope so. My mom is missing. Last I heard she landed herself in jail. I wonder what happened to the two kids that she actually held on to. Well, tried to hold on to at least. Hard to raise children from a jail cell. I guess you could say I grew up an only child from about ten and on. I spent a few vacations in Florida, Maine, England, and Scotland. I enjoy playing video games with friends, and played computer games when I had time for them. Music is my savior. I played soccer for eleven years, and swam on a swim team for nine. Movies are great, and so is reading if I ever find the time. I spent most of my junior and senior year away from my house because of a horrible family situation, which I am glad to be away from now. I was never sick until I came to college, and now I am known for always being sick. I am very sensitive, and take rejection especially hard. I experienced it in a much greater form way too early in life. I hate the pressure society so nicely provides for us. I love my sister. I love my grandparents and always will, despite all that they have put me through in the past few years. I love good people, and I love people who love me back.