The main objective that I had my entire life was to just fit in with this brood of bully kids that were my older siblings. I further had to survive a brutal, dominant, religious zealot mother and an illiterate father, who could be swayed due to his innocence and uncorrupt childlike manner, which his mother would happily manipulate if she finds it necessary. My story is a story that no one wants me to write. That cool look that the band Green Day projected, that hurt, disgruntled, maligned look, is my real, true look. I wasn’t making this up. Yet a horrible neighborhood where I was brought up to would use these weaknesses, which I was afflicted with, to their gain to vilify me and all the good that I might tried to get done.
