On a clear cold November's night, I came into the world. Growing up I always felt different, stating my big ideas and analytical comments on world affairs, unknowing that my intelligence would confuse people due to my young age. This is the story of my dreams and aspirations. This is the story of my struggles and tribulations. This is the story of me. This is my story, although it really isn't over yet. 

My friend told me I should write a book. I scoffed, saying,
"Who would read about my weird life?"
She was all,
"I would."
So here I am. In my bedroom on a gloomy Sunday evening with my anti-depression light on sitting on my bed procrastinating doing my English homework and writing a book about my life.
Weird right?
Told you.

Well. Here were are. Chapter 1. Congratulations on making it this far! I'm a big believer on congratulating people and myself on things extremely not congratulating-able. Some people can't live amazingly adventurous lives and need that kind of simple success to keep their spirits up. Like, congratulations! You got out of bed this morning!
Wait, you fed your fish? GOALS! I wish I was as productive as you!
You see what I mean?
Anyway, in the beginning, (cue Jurassic Park theme music) I was originally not able to be born.
My mom and dad had a daughter and she was all cute. They named her Kristen. Then 3 years later, they were all, sure let's have another! Thus, the plans to make me were in action.
Alas, there were some technical problems and the doctor said my mom would not be able to have another kid. My parents were depressed.
But luckily God was in their favor and my mom became pregnant with me in early 2000. But of course, I couldn't just have come out like a normal kid, I decided to keep growing. The doctors were all,
"You're gonna have a 12 pound baby! She's too big!"
On November 24th, my mom went into labor. The doctors were all,
"Emergency C-Section!"
But my mom, firm in her ways, was like,
"Nah this kid is coming out on her own."
On November 25th 2000 at 3:13 am, I came into the world and I.....wait for it, weighed 7 pounds.
Slow clap for maternity doctors.
The reason they thought I was too big was I was really tall. 22 inches.
Yup. Apparently that's long for a baby and scrunched up in the womb I looked 12 pounds.
This height escapade continued into childhood but let's not get into that now.
And there I was. Born. Alive. A living breathing human being on Earth just being all cute like babies do.
Thanksgiving was the day before so my whole family was in town and witnessed my birth in Long Island, New York.
Apparently, I had chubby cheeks and green eyes and dark brown hair.
My mom decided that my healthy birth even with her medical problems made me a victory.
Henceforth, I was christened with the name, Victoria.
Victoria means victory in Latin, fyi.
So yeah.
That was the creation of me.
Don't worry, we have so much more left to cover.
Why?
Everything in that moment changed.