Based On A True Story| Part 1 | | Introductions Are In Order

Hello. My name is Saoirse Kearney, and I am a survivor. I was born in October of 1986 in a small town in Oklahoma. I was premature, and stopped breathing for six minutes. I'm starting to think that I should have died that day, rather than continuing to live, and maybe, I would have been spared the life I've led, but then again, I could have been born to something much worse. So, in truth, i don't know where I stand. From the time I was six, I knew my life was never going to be easy, but I didn't know just how right I would be. From the time I was born until I was five, I had a pretty good life. Two brothers, I'll name R and K, a sister, I'll name Little J, a mother I'll name Big J, and a father I'll name D. I had two dogs, Basset Hounds, Maggie and Eunice. A couple of cats. We had a three bedroom house in a nice part of town, and I started going to a good school when I turned five. Life was... pretty sweet. Then... everything changed. Suddenly, my father wasn't around as much, and when he was, he wasn't very nice. My mother became self serving (though I'm told she was always like that) and cruel. They separated and we were losing the house. I thought, maybe, we were just moving somewhere else. Somewhere better, but I should have listened to my bigger instincts. From that point on, we were divided; Little J and R with D, K and me with Big J. I didn't know why everyone went that direction, but apparently, K's father was from Alabama, and my father was his step father. My mother was Little J's and R's step mother. They were taken from their real mother at a young age because she was deemed unfit, which, in part she was. I was the only one from both of them. It only made it that much harder. My father and the two moved into an apartment, and me and the other two moved around. Couch to couch, floor to floor. Only later the reasons why became apparent, but that's for a later time. When I look back now, I can't believe how innocent I seemed, considering now I'm a year past 30, I have 5 tattoos, natural red dyed hair, scars from when I tried to take my own life, a panic and anxiety disorder that flares and calms like whiplash, and a whole host of emotional, mental, and physical problems that have spawned a lifetime of chaos. The name I'm using here is a name that's based on a character I use in a role play, whose parents are more abusive than my own, but she had the courage to get out a young age. She's everything I wish to be. Her name will soon be my own, because I can't bear the weight of the one I was given after birth. As you continue to read, IF you continue to read, you'll see why I call myself a survivor, and why I'm ready to start over. Why I'll be working to start over. I have to, because if I don't, this life is going to kill me. Continued later.