My relatives from my mom’s side of the family were verbally and physically abusive. Everybody wanted in on the fun. Of course I didn’t make it any easier on them or whatever. I was a bratty and annoying child, I must admit. There was no point in being an angel. Me and my immediate family had just moved down to California from the East Coast around the second grade, I believe. I have always been different, but not just because. I did not want to be like my family. I became withdrawn at times, of which I found myself behaving like no other child was. I knew I became too strange. Of course I knew how to surround my self with friends and be interactive. I had good grades and I was a lover of books. Harry Potter’s world, is what I would’ve traded mine for. I didn’t know how to communicate my feelings then and I’ve picked up a bad habit of that. I talk a lot without disclosing anything pertinent. Also, my family wasn’t the affectionate type. Dysfunctional more like it. They cannot express their love, if they had any, it was lost on me. I was called too skinny and ugly about every day of my new life here. I even started to believe it. I would try to eat as much as I was told, but couldn’t stomach it. I was then spanked for wasting food. Negativity is all that I can grasp and what I breathe in. Choking on anything positive, like it cannot truly exist. My step dad was the cruelest of all. He wants me to call him dad, while he abuses me and makes me fear him as a sign of respect. I became manipulative because I didn’t know how to ask for things from people who treated me cruelly. I also had no idea how to earn them.