and this is chapter 1 i think
second grade had a hippy teacher. i felt alive, i got into art and writing. i started telling stories. stories was a big thing in my family, especially dad's side. kids really thought i was weird because of my overactive imagination. principal didn't see much that year, but would occasionally pop in and ask me if i was doing ok.
third grade started to get bad. that's when the JJ brothers started tormenting me.
hey! an addition!
they loved playing the game kick the can. where the can was me. i don't remember why they started. they thought it was funny to destroy my work, make fun of the way i sounded when i talked, the way i dressed (not like i had any options or decisions in my clothes buying) and they absolutely loved the game prove that dude's a lady. i would skip out around lunch, because if the punks didn't steal it and throw it away, then i had to wait until dinner and after homework was done. can't concentrate on an empty stomach kids. i went to bed hungry often because i couldn't get my homework finished. it was hard to concentrate anyway feeling bad when two boys stronger than you would feel you up while knocked down. especially when cornered in the bathroom that wasn't used often. i only had two choices: drown in the toilet or take a beating. since i didn't have a change of clothes and still wanted to breathe, i took the other option. but at least they never went for the face. i was always told i had a pretty face. i fucking hate my face. but enough of that.
onto the next chapter, kids.