My Life

This is my story for the Story Of My Life competition.


1. 0-5 years

I was born in Guatemala. I was placed in foster care for a while. After I was taken to America with my new parents I was always questioning things about myself and my biological family. I would (and still do) ask "Why am I here" or "Why did I have to be here and not with my real family". I would always get an answer but they wouldn't be the type of answer that i wanted. If you were ever adopted and you ask someone,"Why didn't my parent's want me?" You will most likely get that "they just wanted you have a better life" crap. But when your little that is an acceptable answer. 

After finally getting an "acceptable" answer I started to live my life carefree. I started playing soccer and going to school at age 5. That was the year that i started my list of regrets. I only have one memory of kindergarten that sticks out in my mind whenever I look back at old pictures. 

One day was playing outside on the playground with my friends when some kid (lets say his name is Nick) in my class came up and threw a rock at me. I barely missed it but I was popular that year and I was known for not taking any crap from anybody. I was pretty much like the school badass. So I did the only logical thing for me to do. I got my gang and when ran after him but our chase ended pretty quickly. Nick threw a rock at us so we would stop but one girl in my gang (Katelyn) ended up tripping over the rock. She ended up falling face first onto the plastic that circled the playground. Her right cheek was cut up. I looked over at her right before she fell and ran over but I wasn't fast enough. She  was lying on the ground when i finally got to her. The ground was bloody and so were her cloths. I yelled out orders and my gang ran into action. Half of them ran after Nick and ended up tackling him to the ground. He had a black eye and busted lip after we were done with him. The other half got the teacher and Katelyn went home. She had to get a lot of stitches on her cheek. She left school a few days after she got the stitches. I only saw her once a years later. She had a large scar on her cheek. I ended up writing her a letter later on and she wrote me back. She blamed me for everything and after all these years I still have that guilt . 

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