I grew up in San Clemente, California. My parents never really payed attention to me, as their child. They could tell I felt different from the rest, and I wasn't intent on hiding it either. From
the day I was born I have been raised up Catholic. Sunday school, youth groups, charity work, you name it, I was involved in it all. It's not that I didn't like church, I loved helping out hungry
families and the homeless, it's just I felt my parents were overly strict about it. I've been teased about wearing "church clothes" and looking far too nice. I don't think my parents are aware of
where we actually live.
In San Clemente, California all everyone ever thinks about is the beach. Girls seemed to be dressed down for it all day wearing only buttcheeck high shorts with bikinis on top. The guys tote their
girlfriends around like some sort of personal property proclaiming that they aren't losers just douche bags. After you've cleared the ocean from your head, the board walk is not far off. The dress
gets no different there and couples are glad to go underneath and,... well you know what I mean. So anytime you are seen dressed in fancy clothes, not showing any skin if your a girl, or not
showing any upper body if your a guy, you're pretty much seen as an outcast. At least that's what my classmates think. Yeah, know you are starting to get the picture. I was a complete outcast all
throughout middle school and junior high. I finally convinced my parents though to let me have some creative say in my wear to school, I mean after all I am in high school.
I couldn't wait to move out on my own after highschool. I had my mind set on moving out to Florida and work in either, photography, creatiive writing, or traditional art. My mother had other plans
for me though. She wanted me to become a priest. I wanted nothing to do with it though. I promised her that I would go to church every Sunday, I still have my childhood routine set in my mind,
forever etched. I told her no. I wanted to do things my way. Surprisingly enough, I convinced her into letting me part my own creative ways. My story may sound normal, but you haven't heard its
apparent "dark side".
© Copyright 2016 deathbybread. All rights reserved.