A couple nights ago, I was having a hard time with myself and my insecurities and I asked someone very special to me to be honest and be upfront with me about who and how I was. He was very honest and upfront and I was thankful for that. He pointed out that, the fact that I always thought I didn't fit in was because I had never tried, and it was true. Although I always wanted to fit in and be accepted, I never did "try" to fit in. Maybe it was because I had been shipped around so much, or that I was always alone in foster care due to never having friends? Either way, over my childhood years, I began to believe that no one liked me and that I would never fit in let alone have friends. The other kids in the foster homes would look or treat me weird, as if I was some disease in they're midst. Also, for reasons unknown to me, they disliked me, although I was always kind to them. It didn't help that I had just been taken from my parents and the home I knew, and, in the middle of the night, put into a completely new and unfamiliar house so I was scared and shy and quiet.

I was put into a room by myself and told to sleep in, something that, at the time, I was not use to and never did. I didn't bother changing, just fell straight to sleep. I woke up about eight in the morning and went downstairs to look for something to eat and was sent right back up to get more sleep, which I quickly ignored. I was new to the house and scared and it hurt that I had been turned away. Thankfully, the room I was currently staying in had my future friends: books. One whole wall of the room contained nothing but shelf after shelf of children's and teens books, the majority being Goosebumps by R.L. Stien. I quickly began my way through them, not stopping unless someone came to talk to me and not leaving the room unless I was under command. Slowly, I sank into myself. I was quiet and shy and scared, and the other kids thought I was weird and not normal because of this so I didn't have any friends. I only had myself. The only times I left the house was when I was picked up and shipped out for a court date or to have a temporary visit with my mother and one of my sisters. Otherwise, that one room with the many, loving, and accepting books became my haven, my hideout, my palace. I was safe and at home there. I use to stay up all night reading. The adults didn't care about us because they never checked in on me. They sent us up to bed to take care of ourselves and that was that. My confidence dropped even lower when I again got Lice in my hair. I had dealt with it many times when I was a kid and for some reason, they kept coming back. Because of my lice problem, they treated my hair and then sent me up to my room to be in seclusion because they didn't want the other kids to catch it. No one was allowed to visit my room except for the adults. Not like it mattered cause no one really did. I'd be lucky if they even noticed me!

I was only at that foster home for a month, and yet, my confidence factor dropped like crazy. I still remember every detail of that house. The wide TV surrounded by lamps in the den, the wooden cabinets with black counter-tops, the stairs where I slipped and fell, my room with two beds and the shelves of books who became my friends. I was transfered to my sister and brother-in-law's apartment in Canyon Country, California. I was being home schooled( I was terribly behind on my schooling...) which didn't help my confidence or my personality any. It only made me withdraw even more. Down the stairs and around the corner was one of the apartment's playgrounds and, although I didn't want to go and argued and begged not to, was sent out there to play often for a sort of P.E. class. I would have rather stayed inside the whole time, but my sister didn't agree with me. So, I went out and played and met new kids. Very, very slowly I opened up and eventually, I met a group of girls who became some of my first friends, although not ones who left a big impression on my life. I thought they liked and accepted me. Only later did I find out how wrong I was. In these apartments, there were storage closets and some were left unlocked and open. One of these became a sort of "club house" for us. We use to hold meetings in it, do arts and crafts in there, or just meet in there and then head to the playground. One day, we decided to do arts and crafts, but no one had any art supplies. Except for me. So I willingly piped up and said I had some and would be willing to share them. These were my friends after all. So, I went up, got my markers, colorful feathers, beads, paper, glitter, glue, sparkles, crayons, paper masks, everything else that was needed to have fun, took them down to the clubhouse and shared them. We had so much fun making those drawings and masks that we later wore for fun. I remember I made a beautiful mask and pretended that when I put it on, I was a princess that everyone loved. I was hoping it would work in real life, which it didn't.

The next day, we came down to our club house and one of the girls was in there and had locked the door so that we couldn't come in. She told us she had a surprise for us and that she would call us back over when it was time. So we headed over to the playground and forgot about the surprise for we were caught up in the child like moments. It was only when later, we went back like we usually did before dinner, that we understood what the "surprise" was. Whoever had been in the closet had taken down all our pictures and masks that we had made and put them on the ground and stomped on them, leaving black, ugly footprints on them. When each of us picked up our items, I found mine torn and shredded and completely ruined, more than the others. Only later did I find out that, the girl had done all that against me although as to why, I had no idea and I know I never will. I was so sad that I ran the few short feet to my sister's apartment crying. My sister came outside with me to see what happened but the person was never caught. A couple days later, I learned that all the girl's were in on the "joke." They didn't like me but had seem me carrying in art supplies and decided to be my friend so as to use it. I was crushed. I stayed inside and only when my brother-in-law- threatened to take away my toys did I ever leave the house. Meanwhile, I had found two friends. One was the girl that my sister babysat who was three years younger. We would spend a lot of our time, if not each day at her house and she became a friend, although not a close one. The other one was a boy who was younger than me who lived across the way from me. Our windows were across the way from each other, so we would sit there and write notes to each other or I'd go over to his house to play or his parents would take me swimming with them. They became my friends. When I was about ten, we moved to an apartment in Newhall, California. I went to Newhall Elementary and transfered there half way during the fourth grade.

Again, kids looked at me like I was a freak. I was quiet, insecure, shy, and angry at life and the world. I wasn't allowed to live with either of my parents, for reason's I will not go into at this moment, and I was angry because of that. I felt like my parents had abandoned me and I was angry. I hated life and I hated everyone else. The kids knew this and so they avoided me. I remember one time in fifth grade, one of the boys said something bad about my father and I socked him in the face and screamed at him to shut up. Then, when the teacher pulled me aside, I burst out crying and was still crying when she made me go outside. After that, kids made fun of me. They called me a cry baby and said I was weak. Because of the way my back was curved due to slumping, kids also made fun of me by calling me "Hunchback of Notre Dame." While it just made me even more angrier, it also made me cry. I had very little friends and the ones I did have were kids who were younger than me. Even then, I was alone and that hurt. I use to sit by myself at lunch watching everyone else playing games with their friends and feel left out. Each day, I'd walk home instead of hanging out with friends and do schoolwork. At night, I cried myself to sleep and dreaded going to school the next day. I hated it. I was tired of getting made fun of and being pushed around. One day, a boy came to the school and ended up being in my class. Let's make his name Tony. Tony was an outcast like me. He was a big boy and people made fun of him for his weight. He became my best friend and my first crush. He was kind and sweet and accepted me for the way I was. Whenever I got made fun of, he would yell at the boys till they made fun of him instead. He became a sort of protector for me.

But, when it came to being a physical protector, that was usually my job. I was the one who would get into fights. I didn't have anything to lose at the time, so what was the point? No one liked me so why try? Over time, most of the kids in my classes began to fear me or at least stay away. They still made fun of me, but in a way so they could still keep their distance. Because of my "violent" behavior, I had to take numerous therapy sessions and talk to a school counselor each week. They evaluated me for weeks and tried to get me to open up about how I felt, or why I was angry, or why I hated school, but I would never tell them. I trusted no one and didn't care what they said. I hated everyone, or so I kept telling myself. I only grew angrier when I was given the choice to redo my sixth grade or go on to junior high. My mom opted for the sixth grade due to me being "too young" for junior high so I ended up staying in the sixth grade with a couple of my bullies along with Tony.

At this time, I started attending the local Boys and Girls club after school. I was still a loner who was quiet and shy and very, very angry. I was not afraid to challenge anyone and to fight them, whether I could win or not. Like I said earlier, I had nothing to lose so why not? I got into many fights there, most of which I didn't start but was defending myself. I never told my mother any of this for I knew she wouldn't do anything. Parents and teachers never do anything. They tell you to go find someone to stop it, but that doesn't always work when you have someone whose ready to kill you any chance they had. Half way through my second sixth grade year, we moved down to the valley and I started at another school, one with mostly African Americans and Mexicans. Now, let me make this straight before I go any father. I do not hate or dislike African Americans or Mexicans. In fact, I had an African American foster sister and brother and a Mexican foster sister who became my best friend in my childhood. A couple of my friends are also Mexican and I love them because they're so much fun to hang out with because they love to party. I DO NOT DISCRIMINATE.

Anyways, at this school in the valley, I was the new white girl. I was still angry, as my mom(who I was now living with among an aunt and uncle), worked long hours and spent very little time with me. She was raising me the best she could, but she couldn't always be there. At this school, I got made fun of and bullied, even to the point of getting physically hurt. Some eighth grade African American girls didn't like and they instantly latched onto me, following me around to school to torture me with their taunts and their kicks. At lunch, they would hit my books out of my hand and kick my legs or push me into walls. One time, one of them grabbed my wrist and I said, "Get your hands off me." She then told everyone in the school that I had said, "Get your black hands off me" and from then, I was screwed. Every Mexican and African American in that school knew exactly who I was and all my information, everything from my name to my address. I got death threats in my locker and I was constantly followed home. It got to the point of where, I had to go to school just to sit in the Principal's office all day and have her follow me around at lunch because people were really wanting to kill me. I remember looking back one time at the masses of kids at lunch and I remember seeing every face turned toward me with hostile and violent face and they were all threatening me. It scared me but it only made me stronger.

The principle finally decided that I couldn't stay there so they transfered me to some richy richy junior high across the valley from them. For me, it was a new experience. I had just come from a school that looked ancient and transfered to a school that looked like a school out of a movie. I was amazed. I remember walking into my science class the first day. I had just come from a school that required uniforms so I was dressed in baggy navy pants, a tight navy polo shirt and black sketchers. I can still see the looks they gave me when I walked in. A couple of the girls even hid behind their hands and whispered and giggled to each other while obviously talking about me. I was too angry to care. The first day was long and boring and almost everyone avoided me. I went and hung out with my favorite people: books. I skipped lunch and went straight to the library where I felt at home. The second day, a couple girls from one of my classes came up to me at lunch, saying that they knew I was from the other school and that I had better watch my back. I took the threat to consideration and didn't tell my mom about it.

The third day I was there was starting out pretty good....that was until P.E. We had to do the mile and I actually finished pretty well. I remember being proud of myself for doing so well. Well, all the girls went into the locker rooms to change and that's where it happened. I got jumped. My lockers were in the far back of the locker rooms and on the other side from the P.E. office. I was getting changed when someone pushed me into my locker. I ignored it, thinking it was an accident. Someone pushed me again and I turned around. Four girls were standing there, blocking every route of my escape. They started threating me and spitting on me. I ignored them and turned back to my locker. One of the bigger girls decided to push my head into the locker. I turned around and socked her straight in the nose, making it bleed. Two girls grabbed my arms, but I kicked the third one in the stomach, kicked another in the shin as hard as I could so that she'd let go of my arm, then socked the fourth girl in the face. It progressed into a full fledge fight and the P.E. teachers came running. When they finally stopped us, I was all in one piece whereas the four girls had a broken nose, or bruises, or stomach cramps, or blood running. The P.E. teachers made me dress and sent me straight to the office. The four girls got off with a warning. I got expelled. I was there THREE days.

At this time, my mom decided that she would try homeschooling again so she shipped me off to Indiana for six months to finish my seventh grade year off right. I was good for those months, rarely acting up. I only got to go home after my grandfather, William Russell Gallant Sr. died of a brain aneurysm.

For most of my childhood, I was alone. I was quiet, shy, and angry and often felt like a freak. I ignored all my problems and had very few friends. I went into myself and talked very little. I still have problems with this. I still feel the need or the urge to just ignore the world and be by myself, a hermit. And living in this retirement city has only made that feeling stronger. The feeling of being by myself and not having to worry about everyone and their problems. But, a bigger part of me is not like that. My friends are my life, and I try to hang on every single one because I know what it's like to be without them. I would do anything for them, despite the cost, even if they wouldn't do the same for me. It took me a long time to come out of my shell, and to be honest? I haven't completely come out yet and I don't think I ever will. I'm always gonna be dealing with wanting to be alone or thinking that I don't fit in. I have been like this for so long that I don't know how to change or what else to be. I still want to be accepted and wanted but I see now that, that's not other people's fault, it's MINE. It's my own insecurity that I'm always gonna be thinking about. It's just how I am.

So, for now, this is me, or my other half as you may call it. Most of my friends describe me as loud and outgoing, friendly, compassionate and caring, but what they rarely know is the other half of me or why I am like that. These are my reasons....and this is my life....