reflection

I believe everyone has their own story.

Everyone has their own history that molds them into who they are as a person. ¬†Their environmental upbringing, their relationship with their parent(s), their childhood friends… everything, really. As I got older, I realized this. Yes, you can become who you want to become – in a sense, but innately, you are molded naturally into the human being you are. As much as you want to change what you hate about yourself or certain qualities you hold, after a certain point in your life, it’s just who you are.

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My parents came from nothing. They worked 15+ hour days in order to build what they have today. They couldn’t raise me while working long hours so they¬†made me live with my aunt and her three kids. This is when the feeling of being an outcast began. This wasn’t my “family”… this wasn’t my “house”… this wasn’t my “room”… I slept alone in her house, which maybe doesn’t seem like a big deal… but sleeping alone in a house that you already feel alone in makes the feeling a lot more colder. My grandmother moved in later and shared a room with me. God bless her. She eventually started making me feel like I was home. She was my home. I still had a void of missing my mom, however. My grandmother would tell me how almost every night I would kick her in my sleep. I never told her it was because every night I dreamt of my mom and she would disappear in my dream. I would run far and wide looking for my mom and that translated into kicking in my sleep. I felt abandoned because I didn’t understand why my parents didn’t want me to stay with them. As an adult, I understand now… but as a child, you don’t understand why you can’t live with your parents. You feel unwanted. You feel unloved. You feel like an outcast. I think this translates a lot to who I am as a person today. Although I understand now why my parents made certain choices, it doesn’t wash away years of feeling inadequate.