Okay so have you ever thought that maybe your life is like a warp hole of continuous amuzement? I mean people say that being a teenager is about the next best thing to being an adult. Well sorry to say, but I really don’t feel like that. I understand that as us teenagers we have it easy. No paying taxes, no paying the rent, and no paying phone bill’s, besides the cell phone. Yet even though we aren’t responsible for those types of “adult” things, we are almost there. Everyone has gone through the stages of growing up. From being a baby to a talking walking catastrophe. I’m not saying that everyone is bent on ruin, but some are just….let’s just say stuck in hole that keeps pulling them in. being teenager means, we have to go through the hardships of boys and girls. From having a crush to being crushed, to getting good grades then becoming a school ditcher, and then the famous “I’m too fat to wear anything, when really I am the complete opposite” stage of life. As a teenager today, I stand right there in the very core of the world of teenager. From angst, lies, relationships, drama, and the occasional heartaches, I’m right there. So is about a quadrillion other teenagers in the world, but I’m just one speaking out. I’m not different from all the other gal’s and guy’s, I am about the same as them. I just hope that this story of mine doesn’t become a bomb.
October sky and midnight rides
Okay so I wasn’t born into the wealthy family everyone dreams about. I was born into a family that rather pretend they were happy then really be happy. My father was born from an all American man and a Korean woman. I never met them and from this day on that’s all I really know about my fathers parent’s. My dad had long black hair and loved it. He was always fixing it and looking in the mirror constantly. He was very tall and had the habit of biting his nails. I guess that’s where I got my nail biting from. My mom married him right away, because she had a thing for the Asian’s. She still does, well that’s what she likes to say. I would like to say that my dad and mom are still together but like a lot of American families, nothing stays the way you want it too. They divorced when I was 2 and that meant I was to visit him every chance I got. Since I was living with my mother, I had the habit of calling my dad by his name. I guess that got him frustrated, because I remember him telling me to call him dad. I never stayed at his house longer then a day, I wasn’t used to being away from my mother. He and I never really talked like daughter and father should. It was like there was a wall blocking him from me, and all he could say or do was hi and good night. It was like he wasn’t my father but an acutance that I had to see every other weekend. He soon began seeing an other women, and they had 3 children. All of which were blond and very very white. I don’t have a thing against white people, I just felt very uncomfortable because I kind of stood out. I became the older sister of an other family. As I grew older I realized that my dad wasn’t the greatest person, especially to my little sister Taylor. He was always verbally abusing her, and made her cry constantly. I couldn’t do anything but watch , I was only like 10. He was never bad to me though, and I guess that’s because I was like his real daughter. I remember him eating cereal with me really late at nights. It was like a ritual between me and him. It was the only thing we did as father and daughter, the only thing that I knew that was meant for me and him. I guess when I got older he began to open up to me, and he actually cried. He told me about his brother killing himself and I knew then that he did love me…well maybe at that moment he did. Soon he left me and my new family. Leaving behind memories and me. I was confused and of course it hurt, but I lived on. It’s funny, but he decided to come back one more time during my birthday week and visit me. He took me out and bought me things and said that he was sorry. He took me to see Jurassic Park 3, which really sucked. He said he would come back the next day to see me, but I guess that was just a lie. October isn’t one of my favorite months, but it’s the only month that I really remember him for who he was.