My Thoughts

If I could be the same person I was three years ago, that would be great. Everything about me would be different. But I’ve changed into someone I’m not. Someone who fears almost everything, not knowing to what to trust anymore. I am now different in looks and personality and I want my old self to return. In Happy Tree Town, you can NEVER be safe. It is absolutely impossible to avoid pain, misery, and death. Sure, I’ve had a few days where I was safe and unharmed, but it didn’t last for even a month. But even when all this happens, I can escape and forget my past. I guess that is one of the good things about this place. I can forget the bad things that happened to me when I was living in Sherwood Towns. I guess this was all meant to be. If I did keep living there, I would have no friends, no one to turn to, not even family, and I would be hated. At least here, I have friends and people who actually care for me.

I grew up in Sherwood Towns. I was also home schooled until my last two years of living there. My family was my mother and father, and Uncle Marcelo. My parents treated him like a god, when he was clearly a horrible person. Early in my parents marriage before I was born, their home was destroyed by a storm, and my rich Uncle Marcelo decided to buy a very expensive, beautiful house for them. My parents thought that it was awfully grateful of him to do that for them, and thought no amount of money would be able to pay him back for all his kindness. Instead of paying him back, my parents practically worshiped him. They even named me Flakyero, being inspired by his name, Marcelo. Pretty crazy, I know. I never liked him, even when I was a child. He had always been mean to me, taking me to the side and telling me that I was a problem for my parents whenever I cried or knocked something over at a family party. Even when I made the slightest mistake or spilled food.

“You have been a fool ever since you learned to walk! You make messes, cry, whine, and grieve your parents,” He stared at me with is cold, dark eyes,”What I don’t like the most about you is that you wont even give two percent of the respect that your parents have given me! You obviously don’t love your parents from the way you act toward me, and they don’t love you.” I wanted this power hungry bastard to die.

“That’s not true! My mommy and daddy love me!!” I would scream at him, being the age of 7 at the time. He smacked me across the face so hard that it gave me a bruise. He usually did that when I would try to block him out of my mind by shouting at him that he was wrong. When I hit the ground he pulled me up by the top of my quills. I wouldn’t be scared of him because that would be weak of me. To fear a monster like that. I would replace that fear with hate.

“Shut up, you little brat! Ungrateful, vicious, child! I can make them despise you, after all, they adore me,” Uncle Marcelo said while still yanking my quills. Sadly, what he said was true. My parents thought of him as this omnipotent leader of our family. So I had to keep this secret from my parents. Or I would have the people that took care of me start hating me as well. As my parents came around the corner to see what was going on, Uncle Marcelo changed his angry look into a fake, hearty smile. He pulled me up to my feet and dusted me off while my parents watched this, admiring his love for his niece,”There, there, little one. You will have more bruises like that if you keep falling. Now you go and try to keep your self safe.” He pointed to the bruise on my cheek 0from me ‘falling’. My parents made an ‘awww’ sound.

“Marcelo, that is so sweet! You are one of the friendliest souls in this town!” My mother said.

My father nodded in agreement.

“Marcelo, what would we do with out you?” My father put his hand on Uncle Marcelo’s shoulder. I stared in disbelief of how well my uncle played them. I shrugged it off, telling myself he would eventually die someday. Or if I was lucky, I would.

Seven years later, I was 14, and the same kind of situations were still happening, except he had gotten much more violent. One day he wanted to see me alone in his office. My parents thought it was a wonderful idea, so they were more than happy to send my over there. I stepped into his office. He was sitting on the couch, as if he was waiting for me the whole time.

“Flakyero, nice of you to finally arrive,” Uncle Marcelo got up from his seat. He was in his mid 40s, had glasses, and a beard. He was a he was brown, aging into a gray old porcupine. He looked dirty, messy, and smelled of old cigars, “Tell me, young woman, do you know why you are here today?” I shook my head no. I really didn’t know. I felt he was going to molest me any second, though, since I was getting older and oh so attractive. And if he did, I would pull off one of my quills and stab him. My paranoia pretty much began there.

“A ‘no sir’ would be more respectful.” He had a stern look on his face.

Ugh. Is this man for real? Whatever...

“No sir, I do not know why I am here today.” I said, trying to make it sound sarcastic as possible. The look on his face was annoying me, they way he was inching toward me was making me uncomfortable, and he smelled so gross. I held my breath. I wanted to go home.

“What is this, tone in your voice, young lady? I do not like it one bit,” Blah, blah, blah. I was beginning have a disgusted look on my face, “Let’s get to the point. I have spoken with your parents about your education.”

“You have, have you?” I mocked him in his dumb sounding accent. He ignored my remark.

“We all have decided to send you to public school, since your parents are not registered teachers and the government has made a law that states that you cannot home school a child if you haven’t gone to college for it. Your parents said this is for the best so you have no choice but to do so.” I couldn’t believe it. This is probably the only thing ever liked that came out of his mouth. Except for when he threw up and totally embarrassed himself in a public speech because he had too much soup that day, but that was different from this. Finally I get to hang out with my friends who were in my neighborhood. My friends were cholas and skaters, and I dressed like the cholas so I would fit in perfectly with them.

“Really?” I asked. I was so excited. I was practically smiling my mouth off because I was so happy. He was a little let down that I was happy about it but continued with his dumb lecture.

“Yes, really. But I warn you. No ‘relationships’ with boys. Go past friends with a boy and expect the worse. Well I have work to be done so leave me now.”

“Yes sir!” I started to run gleefully out of the room, surprised he never attacked me this time.

“Flakyero.”

“Mhm?” I looked back. He had a serious look in his eyes.

“Any relationships... and you will regret ever meeting me.” His eyes just had this evil, scary feel to them that moment. At that, I quivered a little not even wanting to imagine what he could do. I couldn’t believe it. He was getting to me. I shook it off and ran out the room, not wanting to say anymore.

A week past from that day, and it was the morning of the first day of my freshman year. I was too happy to be bothered by anything. I did my hair in two braided pigtails and a messy bun in the back. I wore my chunky, gold hoop earrings, and blew bubbles from my favorite kind of gum, Hubba Bubba Max. I had alopecia or something, where my eyelashes didn’t grow, so I put some liquid eyeliner on to make he have the effect of eyelashes. It didn’t matter that I had on that much liquid eyeliner any way. They cholas in our group have eyelashes but use WAY more liquid eyeliner than I do. I had my mousse in my hair instead of gel because gel dried up and made me look as if I had dandruff. I put my favorite white, baggy hoodie on. It had my nick- name “Flaky” in graffiti scattered all over it in gold and black letters. I wore my Apple Bottom jeans and my shoes that look similar to my hoodie. I was ready for my first day and I was happy. I had already called my friends up and they were also glad that I was coming to school. Nothing could ruin the next few years my high school life, absolutely nothing.

That was what I thought three years ago, though.