Well let's get one thing straight and out of the way, I am not crazy. With everything I've been through and done throughout my life that is the one thing I've always maintained and has always been true. Now I'm sure you've never heard of me and I can honestly say I don't care, not many people have, hell I work with people who don't know my name. Now that we've gotten that out of our way where should I start?
Let's see, I come from a rather small family, just four of us, average Italian American family from the outside. We hail from upstate New York, I'm not really sure exactly where. My father was the first born in America, or so he says. He also says that his father owned a mechanic shop in New York, my dad said a lot of things, it happens. My mother was adopted, rather large Italian catholic family; you can imagine I'm sure. My mom would tell me stories about her families little brick house in "the city". She always told me that her older brother had worked on the car from Ghost-busters; I always thought that was so cool.
Well moving on, average family living in upstate New York, we had our problems, everyone does. My father had been in an accident before I was born, I think, he was driving to see my mother and he was run over by a truck. His skull was crushed along with other things; he told me that the doctors said he would never walk again, if only they had been right. If you asked my mother she would say that he was different before the accident, if you ask my grandparents they would say he's an angel and always has been. I didn't know him before and I wish I had never had the option to meet him. I wish I had been adopted out, never meeting my birth family. I have a perfect older sister, I mean she isn't but has always been looked upon as if she's perfect. She always hated me, well I think they all did and I'm sure you're curious as to why I would think so and I'm getting to that.
Well being born and raised in upstate New York, we moved around a lot. Everything was normal, or so I thought at that age. We had lots of games and played at my grandparents quite often. My grandfather had two green thumbs, if I remember correctly he had the largest garden on the tallest hill I've ever seen. It was always amazing, being little I always thought that it was the place to go to snack on little fruits and what not. I've always heard stories about how his father had a green thumb too before he died in a car accident. Something about him being a smoker and living to be over 100 before he was hit by a drunk driver, or that's how the story goes. Everything was normal-ish, I mean every family has its problems. My mother's also adopted younger brother stayed with us for some time and he kept getting in legal trouble, he once stole from my mother and my father almost put his head through the wall. It's sad that I was so young and remember so little and that's what my mind chose to remember.
Well we moved out of New York and it was early 99, for some insane reason we ended up in Michigan. That's right, the lake state, our only inland peninsula, simply put this state is kinda…well..something. As the story goes, we moved around a lot in New York and my mom was fed up and made a friend online and wanted help. She said she told my father she was leaving and takin the kids and he could either go to hell or come with. I wish he had chosen the former.