Semi-Charmed Kind Of Life
When I was four, I searched vigilantly for my birth certificate hoping to find clues about my real parents. I believed I was adopted when my parents started to pay more attention to my newly born sister. No longer was I the only child, the center of the universe. She was their precioussss now… My childish insecurities whispered that surely they were not my real parents. They did not love me as much as they loved their new child. My heart believed there was a mummy and daddy out there searching for me. Wanting to shower me with the love and attention I was accustomed to, that I deserved. My birth certificate eventually told me there was no one out there and I was all alone.
My teenage years were rough. At a very young age I sought happiness and comfort from my friends. They were my family, they were my life and my life was good. But at 13 my family moved states and I was wrenched from my roots and throw into an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar faces. These faces didn’t like my face because I was eligible to enter the “A” class (for the brightest students) despite being the “new girl” at school. I tried so hard to fit in and cycled between different cliques in school. Eventually I became friends with girls from another class whom today are still my dearest of friends. Life got a little better. On the surface I was invincible, a known rebel hanging out with a really cool group. On the inside, I was hollow and echoed with insecurities.