prolouge
I don"t know where i come from. As cliche as it is, i really was dropped on a doorshesttep as a child, but they didnt want any children. I ended up at saint pauls home for young ladies, and as much as i would love to say that some rich bald guy came and adopted me by the time i was ten, it didnt happen that way. In fact no one has adopted me, no rich bald guy, no foreign duke, no loving couple, nobody. but thats the thing about fairytales , they are just that, fairytales.
part 1
I wanted to keep a journal or a note book to write my story in for future purposes. i dont know what those purposes were, but they dont matter because i never kept the note book. thats what you call a moot point. still i decided to write the story as i remember it because... well what else is there to do on a rainy day. i was looking on th internet for instructions on how to start, i want this to be good, and i found a most helpful article(sarcasm). it told me to start at the beginning and end at the end. so thats what i will do. i had spent my whole life moving from one place to another from foster homes back to saint paulls, and back to the next foster home. it was a never ending circle with no beginning and no end.i had been everywhere from oregan to florida, but i always ended up back where i started. its beacause i am impossable, thats what the sisters said. they would ask me every time i got sent back " eva why are you so impossable it wouldnt kill you not to be rude" and i would always say "because my hair is as black as my soul." after that they would cross their chest and pray for my soul ,and for my forgiviness. i was tempted to tell them not to worry for my soul, im living proof the man upstairs has a sense of humor. i knew he would get the joke,besides me and him had a standing agreement. i would go to church and read his book, if he would let me mess with the nuns. i wouldnt mind the praying if they prayed in silence, but five nuns in a car mumbleing about my forgivness is not exactly my idea of fun. i had only one friend named micheal. he and i spent most of our lives together, he knew all of my secrets and i knew all of his. micheal never got adopted because he wasnt cute. he would be someday but for now he was just odd looking. he had a straight nose and eyes that were to big for his head. he didnt have dimples, and he talked kindof funny cause he was italian. or at least his parents were. he had never lived there but some how he still had the accent. me and micheal met when we were five, he still had parents at the time. they died in a car crash a year later. i loved them as much as he did ,they were going to adopt me. some where in the back of my mind there are fantasies, dreams i had during that year that i guess i have been saving for a rainy day. dreams of running home from school into the arms of my new mommy, of sitting on the back porch drinking milk and playing, i even started practicing talking funny so that people would know that i belonged to them. that day i decided i didnt want to be adopted. i wanted my parents MINE. so thats how this story starts, the story of how i found my family.
