I grew up in a small town where you had to have the right surname to have the right to “belong”. I was about 5 years old when my group of friends realised my surname did not fit in with theirs… I roamed the playgrounds from my first day in grade one until one fortunate day in grade 4, and then some more in grade 6, again in grade8, 9 and 10. The truth is I never really belonged anywhere as the damage has been done in my most critical forming years. I don’t think I was always bullied… sometimes “they” would laugh about something and I would tell myself they laughed at me. To be honest I liked to play the victim, feeling sorry for myself became what defined me.
I felt like what they call “white trash”whatever that may be… like no one would want to be my friend. Once one of the hunks of the school asked me to dance at a party, with all his friends laughing and looking at me. I liked him a lot and he always stared at me in class, so I felt like cinderella for a few minutes, in the arms of one of the most beautiful boys I knew. Imagine the damage caused when the song ended and he stopped me in front of his laughing friends, and also the rest of the hunks in school, and asked loud and clear for Read the rest of this entry