© ItalRT4u, 2012
There are many things about this world that cannot be explained; I, for one, and how I came to be. Sure, I could go through the motions and explain to you how my mother and father had come to meet, how they fell in love, the part about the birds and the bees but I’m sure that you all get that part; and let’s face it, I seriously don’t need that mental picture right now. As I’ve said, there are things in this world that are completely without any explanation. Some are dark, some are haunting, and others are wonderful, perhaps even seen as a gift. I tend to fall in one of those categories. Which one, at this point, I’m not quite sure of at the moment.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve led a sheltered life. From a young age, I had grown to understand that beauty existed in many different facets. Some possessed it externally, others were blessed with it internally, some with a combination of both and then you had those unfortunate souls that possessed neither. My parents did their best to shield me from the latter. They had always told me that I was special but I had always chucked it up to it being something that parents tell their children. I knew that I wasn’t like everyone else out there – something within me told me so, needless to say, my parents couldn’t stress it enough. Sure, I was beautiful, or so I’ve been told but, I knew there was more to it all. For one, I seemed to be incredibly attuned with everyone’s emotions. I found myself sometimes overwhelmed by them.
It wasn’t until I was fifteen and had come home crying about a horrible incident that my mother and father had sat me down to tell me the truth about who I was – what I was to become. It was true; I was special indeed. After a short lifetime of refusing to admit it to myself; to see myself the way my parents had always seen me, it’s fair enough to say that I was shocked whence the answers came – answers that explained, terrified and shook me to my very core.
This is my story, my rendition, of how I came to be…