I want to get something straight before I feed you my secrets and thoughts. I never want to be pitied for living my life. Ever. So, if you’ve come here to stop and stare at the little broken girl you should leave and find a story written by an attention craving teen.

Now that we’ve gotten all of that straightened out…

Let’s start from the beginning. You see, I was born three months ahead of schedule which has not only caused my mother and two older half sisters, Sarah—the oldest—and Ashleigh -the younger of the two, to become protective and paranoid for me. This premature birth has caused my father to think of me as a weakling. My father, being six foot six inches in height and weighing about 280 pounds, assumed that because I was only one pound twelve ounces, and had to be incubated for no less than three months that I am not capable of sustaining a “normal” life. I’m sorry to say that he was right, but not for the reasons that you-or he—may think.