(that's what I'm going to call the people reading this)
I was born on June 1, 2002 in a hospital. Nothing was special about me, I was normal weight, normal length, didn't almost die. My parents got in and got out of the hospital in 3 hours. I started walking and talking around the age of one.
Everything was normal, but when I turned 3, I begged and begged to be able to take dance. They signed me up for beginners Hip Hop. I enjoyed it, but I was drawn to the girls ballet and jazz.
My parents noticed and signed me up for that class. I loved it, I made friends even though I was the only boy. My 4th birthday party was just me, my childhood friend Caleb, some girls from dance.
When I could walk and talk, my parents stopped being there. They hired a nanny who took care of me most of the time. She raised me. (And NO, her name was not Jessie) Her name was Sarah. My parents, my dad is a cook at a restaurant and my mother is lawyer. (I'm not telling their names.)
My dad works from 10 in the morning to 10 in the night. The rest of the time, he's either making breakfast or sleeping. My mother is almost never home, she's either working on a case, talking with a client, in court or at home.
I started preschool and enjoyed it immensely. I made friends quickly and was happy. I smiled a lot and often laughed and joked a lot.
That's all for today.
YOU ARE READING
This Title Will Be Long And Pointless, But You Will Read It AnywayNon-Fiction
So this is the real me, not the me my family knows or my friends know. This is the me that has tried to take his life and regrets that it didn't work. I'm sorry my sister that you may read this and I'm sorry that I didn't tell you or mom and dad. O...