It's Gonna Be My Year

I may not have been beaten, but I have as much mental scarring as anyone who might have been. Things weren't pleasant growing up, and they still aren't.

I didn't have that ideal, white picket fence home that every American dreams to have. It felt like it was my brothers and I against the world, and maybe that was what hurt the most about it all.

Growing up, I was told whenever asked that my name was spelled different because my mother wanted me to be different. Who would have thought those seventeen years down the road, her dream was anything short of what she expected, right? Maybe her definition of 'different' didn't signify a girl wanting out of her house to roam the interstates with three or so sweaty friends, yeah?

As far back as my memory allows, I've always been a bit of an odd ball. I adored following my brothers around, though they hated when I did. I could never stop myself, though. Back then, my brothers were the shit, and I wanted to grow up to be half as cool as them. I always felt safe around them, like no bully could harm me.

To specify, I was a middle child, along with my older brother, Chris. We weren't Cinderella, but we weren't Belle, either. We were sort of diamonds in the rough and could find anything to allow us to slip away from reality if only for a minute. Chris and I were different from each other, yet were so much the same.

When it comes to putting someone on a pedestal, Evan and Dominic had one big enough for each of their inflated egos. Evan, being the oldest and first born, never truly knew what it meant to work for his earnings; he was simply handing everything. Since Dominic was the baby, he didn't have to do much either. Basically, he'd tell our parents to jump, and they would ask how high.

When things came down to it, and I grew older, I found that I was more of an anchor than anything. I was always holding people in place, so they wouldn't drift into the clouds. I always found some way to put my friends first, but never took the time to meet my own needs. I was caring and sharing and got nothing in return for it; I was a doormat.

My dreams, however, were what kept me grounded. Somehow, they managed to support me through the tiny funks of my life and kept me going. Had it not been for the wondrous world of imagination, I probably would have ended up at some measly desk job, miserable with life and everything in it.

Though I seem grim, I don't mean to be. I invite you in, with open arms for the first time in my seventeen years on this life. I welcome you to read these lines and not to skim over what lies between them.

I welcome you into the true world (with story implements of course) of Iero_Hero.