Relato de un naufrago

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  • Publicado : 4 de noviembre de 2010
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My story ... Growth is based on how ... My childhood ... My real childhood ... My trips ... My love and my truth. I lived with my parents 6 years since I was born, until they broke up due to a thirdparty. Since then I lived with my mother and my grandmother to this day ... my 14 years. I could not say that my life was easy, I had many problems at this stage, rebellion, believing that I kneweverything and could not hear, I was very precocious. Leave my childhood to the age of 9, stop playing dolls, letting my bottle and look elsewhere.
My first love of 11 years, made serious mistakes,disobeyed, deceit, disappointment and hurt. I arrived in my time a little more maturity, my 12 years. He had suffered for lack of time for my father, who had ceased to be in my special moments. At thisstage I began to recognize who were true friends and those without. I learned to love myself and respect me as I am. I started to get ready to worry about how I will see and what others think. But he didnot understand that it was time, I had to wait, I had to enjoy my steps, which already wanted to jump. And wanted to have a boyfriend, and wanted to go to parties and I thought great, what not nowand not a couple of years I will be.
I wanted to have an Independence and be alone. I can say that enjoyment, that's me I lived my moments, but there are things I like to go back and do not get to do.At the age of 13 years, lived not long, I was so clinging on what others think, to the frustration ... When thinking about how I look, as I see, and not live a wonderful time. I was in Girl Scouts,art camp, I was in modeling and participated in several school dances. But I need something that gets me, something which I hold fast and say: This is it! I learned to my young age that looks aredeceiving greatly, you should not believe everything you're told, you should trust yourself and always against whoever.
Today, my 14 years I have learned that self is worth, you have to respect yourself...
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