A Stranger Looking For Home
A Stranger Looking for Home
I was born a shy, reserved kid. It always, I mean always took me along time to be comfortable around someone. Then it would take me even longer to be comfortable enough to get close with someone. This even true for family that I do not see on a daily basis. I really do not why I was always so shy, it’s just the way I am. I accept that even though many times I wish I could throw caution to the wind and be a carefree person, loose and friendly. But there are many more times when I am glad that I am the way I am. Out of the aloofness, has come the ability to understand people.
I have always been listener. I was born pretty shy and reserved so before talking or making friends I would observe what the people around me were doing; how they were doing or saying it; what they were suggesting with body movement or eye contact. (At this point I sound pretty creepy or stalkerish, but I’m not. I’m just an observant fellow F.Y.I.). I could sift out the bullies, the good guys, the smart ones, the funny ones, and the ones likely to get me in trouble. So I believe I am pretty good at reading people (hint: future psychologist). Also I always have love listening to my family members and friends tell me their problems. It feels good to help others with their problems. Why not make a career out of it? (hint: future psychologist)
I lived in pretty rough places as a pre-teen and teenager. From fifth grade to eight grade and sophomore year of high school, I lived in Chicago, Illinois. Life and the people were pretty rough. It was even rougher because I had lived most of my life up to that point in a town in northern Illinois. Like my older brother, I could have easily absorbed the darkness and depression of the city. But I did not. I held it together. I sort of just blocked the turmoil out and strove through my education because for better times. If anything, an education could lift me out of poor depression. It had a price though. I could not really...
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