Roots

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic
The roots of me...

Submitted: July 16, 2014

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Submitted: July 16, 2014

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Everyone knows I’m adopted…Everyone…It’s important for me that people know…otherwise, it becomes a million times more awkward that moment when they find out…and I don’t look like my family, so I guess I want to save anyone that sees us together any confusion…they’ll know right away…”of course, she’s adopted. That’s why her and her brother look nothing alike.”…I want to save myself the time I’d have to take to sit a good friend down one day and confess I’m adopted…I told my nephew also…He seemed to finally realize a lot of things…why I’m so different…why I’m so weird and awkward…no matter how long they’ve been my family, I’m still not their blood…I love them though…I really do, but I can’t help but wonder…how it would’ve been with my real family…how they look, especially…what about my personality resembles them? And what could I possibly learn about myself if I meet them someday…Actually, I met my sister one day…briefly…can you believe she found me on facebook? She saw how I'd publish where I worked on my page and showed up right when I was coming back from break…I was shocked…see, that’s why I believe in fairytales and stupid little dreams and stuff…because that was something out of a movie and it happened to me…not my neighbor…not my classmate or co-worker or friend…me…it happened to me…and she cried…and she was very nervous…very anxious…she’s older than me…with kids and all…I met one of her kids too…he didn’t resemble me…or maybe I didn’t look long enough…I was so focused on her…I could see my face in hers…same mother, different father…supposedly…I wish I could see her again, but I lost touch…I had her number…her kid’s facebook…all gone…I don’t even know how…it looked as if she’d put some effort into finding me…I put no effort into keeping her in my life…and now I miss her…I want to know her…see if we’re alike in any ways…stare at her some more and see our faces blend…spend time with her kids…I bet they’d like me…they’d be more like me than my fake nieces and nephews…it’d be easier, I guess…it’d be nice…she said I have brothers too…can you believe that?...a whole family for someone who was raised alone and like an only child…because I wasn’t adopted by the greatest family, you know…they’re okay…just okay…there’s a lot of things I don’t like about them…and sometimes, believe it or not, I think of the grass being greener in the other side…at least some of it…but I can’t meet them…they’re too far…and she gave me away…who’d want to meet her?...before she dies though…I have to…to figure me out…to finally meet the real me…what I was supposed to be…I want to see them all so bad…someday though…those are things that are part of my goals in life…and I’ll reach them…sooner or later…I don’t need much…my family knows them…can you believe that? They know them…addresses, names, and even numbers…they seem to know my pain…or at least fathom it…they suffer too, you know…when my biological bitch mother contacted me at the age of 18, my family became very bothered and worrisome…can you believe that they feared I might be stolen?...my love for them…my dedication to them…they feared it might all go away…how could they think that?...that’s ludicrous…how I could I “love” those who abandoned me more than those who took me in?...I mean…my siblings had nothing to do with anything…but, that bitch…she gave me away…and kept the others!...how dare she?!...whatever…I’m not a person who holds grudges…at least not in an unhealthy way…I hold my grudges like any other “normal” human being is capable of…I get angry, of course…but, I can forgive…I can forgive her…believe me…I can forgive anything…it sucks…but, I can…I’m a very forgiving person, unfortunately…it’s probably why I was allowed to suffer so much pain in this life…I was expected to be okay…because I’m strong, you see…I’m stronger than most people I encounter…that’s what happens when you go through so much shit…you become strong…like, a fucking rock…and then people ask why you have such a tough front…I was made that way…to keep out assholes from hurting me, because I’m real sensitive on the inside, but they can’t know that


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