I always new I was different, I just needed somebody to prove it to me. That's exactly what happened on my 11th birthday this year. But before I tell you about that, I should start at well, the start. For as long as I could remember, I've been living with Mr. and Mrs. Joans. When I was about five, Mr. and Mrs. Joans, (or as I called them at the time, Mom and Dad) sent me to preschool. The first few days went normally, then we stared learning about different kinds of families, and finally, that lead to a talk about adoption. As soon as my 5-year-old brain could process the concept of adoption, I realized I didn't look anything like my 'parents', I realized that I might be adopted. So I did what anyone in this situation would do, I got home from school, and said to my 'parents', "Am I adopted?" They looked at each other, then at me, then at each other again, and finally, Mrs. Joans said "Well.... Yes. One day, about 5 years ago, this man appeared on our porch, he looked quite strange, clad in robes he was! With a long pointy hat too! He looked like a wizard I say. He said 'look after her,' and don't let anything happen to her,'. I and your father- I mean, I and Mr. Joans, looked at each other, and when we looked back, the man was gone! All that was left was you. There you were, a baby, sitting on the porch, crying and confused. So I'm sorry Raven, but you are adopted." My 5 year old self was angry and confused and the same time. "Okay Mom- I mean Mrs. Joans. I'm gonna head to bed now, I'm not feeling well." I had muttered, already half way to my room. Ever since that day a haven't called Mr. and Mrs. Joans Mom and Dad. And ever since that day I haven't felt quite normal. I'm almost eleven now, by birthday is in sixteen days to be exact, so what could possibly go wrong?
Me!
