Part 1: Dawn
In my writing classes which I used to take, one of our projects was to write a short autobiography. I found mine a couple of days ago and figured that I should post it here. I think it's not too bad - it didn't make me cringe at least - but I did need to change some stuff. Before I begin, let me warn you: The story of my life is not for the faint of heart. If somebody told you that this was going to be a happy little tale, that I was just a typical teenage girl without a care in the world, then somebody lied. No, this is a tale of heartbreak and tears, where the boundaries of righteousness and wrongteousness are blurred like when you stare at something for too long and it goes all fuzzy. And, like every story worth telling, it features a motorcycle chase. More on that later.
For now, I feel it necessary to provide you with some backstory: a foundation upon which my epic tale of love and loss can be built. It all started in the summer of 1995. The sun shone high in the sky above a world where teenagers still used slang like "da bomb", and cassette tapes were still a viable storage medium. Madonna was storming the popular music charts, and Disney's Pocahontas was inspiring children all across the land to talk to trees. It was a simpler time. It was a happier time.
My parents were only three years out of university at this point, and were now doing their best to make ends meet in the harsh communist dictatorship of England. My father had a boring office job, and my mother was trying to get a job in teaching. They were already parents at this point, to my older brother Daniel. However, they were seemingly aware that he was destined to be a failure at life, so they were now trying again. Their new child was to be a baby girl, and they awaited her arrival anxiously. Little did they know of the glory this girl would achieve.
I was born on July the eleventh, fourteen years ago, though I can remember it like it was yesterday. I can remember the fear that consumed me as I was forced from my mother's womb into the harsh outside world. I can remember the disappointment I felt upon the realization that my parents weren't French.
There's more than this, but I wrote it all by hand so I'd need to type it up to post it. I'll post more if you want me to.
What light through yonder window breaks?
It is the East, and Joliet is the sun!