“It is our choices...that show who we truly are, far more than our abilities. ~Albus Dumbledore”
This is a fact I’ve learned early on. I grew up knowing right and wrong from the very start. Then again, that didn’t mean I didn’t stray from my path. It was my choices that got me in some of the predicaments I stumbled upon my way. I take full responsibility for them also. I don’t expect to sugar coat my story, nor for you to be engrossed into it. I’m just here to explain my story.
-Insert depressing song here-
Soooo, it all started when I learned that I had a gift. No, scratch that it was even earlier, I’ll just start from the very beginning.
I was a miracle baby. Clear and to the point, I wasn’t supposed to live in the womb, but miraculously I did. I was supposed to be a twin, shocker right? Two of me…oh man…that’s a scary thought!
Well, my mother was a few weeks along and she went to the Doctor’s for a checkup. Now she was too early along so the Doctor didn’t know that there was two babies. He thought he heard a second heartbeat but wasn’t sure. But, by the time my mother went for her second checkup, she started having period pains. Now, even the blondest woman knows that you’re not supposed to have your period during pregnancy. So, my Grandparents rushed my mother over to the hospital, and they found out that she had twins. Not identical, though because if she had identical twins, I wouldn’t be here today. They never really figured out what happened to make her have the period pains, but only that I was there. So now we’re going to back up even farther to talk about my mother.
My mother isn’t the smartest crayola in the pack. Not at all, she was raised in all the right ways but she took some detours in her teenage years, and not always in the right ways.
She, my mother, got caught up with the bad crowd. ‘Tis how I was conceived as I said, she was with the bad crowd. I wasn’t planned; I was a hit n go, quite honestly. My Mother went to the hospital the day she was having symptoms and her best friend decided to tell my, “father” that she lost the baby. Which they thought was true because they thought they lost it. Soooo, my “father” ran off, without even stopping to smell the damn roses. Typical isn’t it?
My mother was distraught and depressed, naturally. She started hanging out with the wrong crowd again, smoking, drinking. She was 26 and her life wasn’t all too swell.
Then she found out I was still kicking it out in the tummy. She got her act together real quick-like. Lo and Behold a kicking baby girl was born on April 4th, 1998.
Weeeell, notice how I didn’t say, “Healthy little baby girl”? Yeah, well they don’t really know why, but my elbow didn’t really grow all the way. ‘Tis why I’m all funky in the head! Psh, I wish. I’ll get back to that later any who.
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