Hey, it’s Megan. I don’t know where to go with this or who will even read it, but I guess I’ll start by taking a little time to share some personal things.
I was born 6 hours away from where I live now, my parents divorced when I was 7. Same old story, my father was a drunk piece of shit and my mother was the wife too afraid to leave. I don’t really remember my childhood, and I think that’s best. Not too fond of what I do remember. But what stays wrapped around my mind is the fact that I feel like I
really began to open my eyes the day we left my father. I remember being woken up to, “wake up, we’re leaving,” and I didn’t question, I just went with it. One of the few times in my life I didn’t even use that millisecond to question 20 different things all at once. Since then, I’ve been more aware of everything, have more memories, not necessarily good either, but I remember. And after that my parents became textbook divorcees. Mother bashing father, father saying never trust mother. Textbook.
I’ve gone through some shit, so have most of us, and I’ve learned from it, so have most of us, but it doesn’t define me as a person, you know? I’m not that girl who moved a few times and put up with a lot of shit. I’m Megan.
Out of all my siblings I’ve taken the most shit, but I’ve also learned a lot more. I find it painful to judge people and I can see their stories written on their face. They wear it on their skin and carry it with them in their eyes, in the way they walk, the way they talk. Maybe it’s empathy, I don’t know. Guess it depends on if you believe those kinds of things.
I’m a beleiver in doing what makes you happy, if that means flipping burgers, flip those fucking burgers. Whatever you love to do, just do it with passion. This could be saved for another post, so I guessss I’ll hold back, I just really like writing. So I’ll stick with this for now, but I’ll sure be blogging much more.