Finding your true self. I'm sort of still doing that. I don't know much about my background, or my family. Sometimes I feel left out when people are discussing their roots back from 200 years. I figure' I'm black. So my ancestors were probably from Africa. I'm sure most black people figure that. Not all, but must. I wish it didn't have to be that way. But, hey. Over the years, though, I have found out little tid bits, here and there, from long discussions and overheard conversations between adults. It's even suspected that we might be descendants from a white slave owner the maiden name Penn, is from my mothers side. William Penn was a slave owner. Maybe that's why the shade of my family's skin is as yellow as a light bulb. Maybe I'm just over thinking things. My mother had me young. But she wasn't like all of the other girls who get pregnant. She had been out of high school and had a place of her own. As for my real father. I don't know much about him. I saw him once in a photo that was hidden away. But no one knew. We don't really talk about it. I think that if you don't want someone to see photo of someone then you should shred it, crumple it up, burn it, or rip it to pieces. Not keep it in a stack of photos just lying around for anyone to see. Anyway, he's somewhere in Georgia I guess. Georgia is where I am from. I do have a step-dad. He's been here since I was a baby. He and my mom just got a divorce. Married fifteen years. All down the drain. But I can't I am sad. I am not happy either, but at least I won't have to hear the constant bickering and the awkward silences. And I don't have to see their sad faces after another argument and the death gazes they exchange. At least there is no pretending that the romance is still their. No doubt there's love. They will always have love for each other. But not the kind of love that keeps a marriage together. I can not say I am perfect either. I am way different. I have spilt personalities. But I am not a skitzo. Some people think I am so sweet and quiet and nice. While at home I am the girl with the bad attitude. Others friends who know me oh too well think I am crazy and loud. I sort of care what they think because they are my family and it hurts to think that my family has this negative idea about me. But I also don't care because I don't think it is true. I don't understand any of it. I am always wondering and never getting answers. And maybe that's my problem now. I think for every question that I have ever had about anything else, I am going to ask.
March 16, 2009