My parents were both very rich. My mom sold dresses made out of the finest silk. My dad was a lawyer. Both were not my type of personality. When I was small, before I had even started preschool, my mother taught me to sew. Yes, I still do know how to sew. Don't mention it. In kindergarten, I was a loud child. I always wanted to add some fun. I think my dad disliked this fact. So he started lecturing me on being quiet and serious. It was horrible for me. That and the fact my dad refused to let me input on what I actually wanted to do, which was make music. I heard someone play guitar on the streets. It was like heaven for me. I knew right then that was what I wanted to do. But that wasn't what my parents wanted me to do. Mom wanted me to be a seamstress. Dad wanted me to be serious. So conflict happened. I spent most of my childhood doing what I hated. That was until my mom gave me a guitar. I had begged for one over and over again to the point were my mom could no longer stand it and just bought one, hoping I would get tired of it. I didn't. I practiced every night. I became so good at it, I began coming up with songs. My parents did not encourage me, but I ignored them. They had never heard good music. Not like what I heard. My worst day I had was my sixth grade graudation. My parents decided to throw a party. Not the fun kind of parties, but more of the serious ones. They served tea and sugar free cookies. I was asked adult questions I didn't understand. It was so bad, I left the party and my house. They were using my room as a lounge. I spent the night out in the woods. It was dreadful. I tried to sleep in a tree, only to find a bee's nest. I got stung twice. I tried the ground, but a timber wolf chased me off. I finally found a bush. I probably slept for an hour before the skunk came along. By then the sun was coming up, and I was ready to return home. When I finally did get home, my room had been all tighten up and smelled like baby powder, and my guitar had been broken and thrown in the trash. I lost my temper after that. I screamed so loud, I'm pretty sure the neighbors started to worry because they boarded up their door. I think my dad took care of that problem. My mom went and bought a better one, begging me to stop screaming before the guards showed up, so I stopped. I was still upset that someone would have done that. And they were supposed to be polite!
That was my childhood. Hope it wasn't too boring. If it is, then just tell me and you can go. Otherwise, I'll move on to high school, where I first met Octavia.