First, I'd like to just say that I am not Matt. Sometimes I pretend to be Matt. But not always and not frequently. Most of the time, I'm just this crazed child who goes by the name of Shadow. :D I just happen to get called Matt sometimes and sometimes call my friend Mello. And I adore Matt. And Mello. And Mello and Matt ~together~. That's all, really.
But so, I'm here to talk about my life because Mello made me.
Mmmh, I was born in Puerta Rico on April 25, 1995. That means I've lived to see a new millenium. I'm awesome. Yep.
Our house had this balcony, and my room had a bed. When I went to sleep, I normally slept in the bed. Which was on the floor. Kinda a weird concept, but. That was my life. I think the most eventful thing that happened to me was the nightmares. I always dreamed about this dog thing, and it was called the Pinth.
When I was, um, three or so, we moved from Puerto Rico and actually lived in the US. XD I haven't left the country since, except for one excursion to Canada about five years ago when we wanted to see Niagara Falls from the good side.
My early years are too sketchy, though. I remember bits and pieces of things, and I remember the time I chased my dad around the kitchen of one of our houses when he'd just come out of the shower and we were both laughing our heads off, and because I was an obnoxious toddler I thought it was pretty hilarious to chase an unclothed man around the house. And I remember this time we were all sitting in the car, and my mom was singing about peaches. The memories I have of my parents from the first few years of my life were all happy ones, but insignificant ones.
I think I remember my third birthday party. I tried eating a corn chip, but I threw it on the floor because I didn't like it. And my cousins gave me a Winnie the Pooh blanket that I kept for years, but by the time I was ten, I felt certain it'd shrunk along the way because I remembered it being a lot bigger. They also gave me the movie Bambi. Disney is so old when I think about it, goodness.
Then a few months before I was four, we moved into the house we live in now. The house itself hasn't changed much, but the furniture has, and my family has doubled in size since then. I used to just have my parents and brother and me. Now there's another brother and three sisters in the mix.
But that was the year I taught myself to read. My mom came up behind me one day, as she tells me, and found me mumbling the words to Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See, which I evidently hadn't "just memorized". Of course, she showed me off to all the relatives. My uncle made me read the ingredients off a bag of bread before he would believe her claims, but to my mom's delight I proved his doubts false. Honestly, I'm always going to take delight in the fact that I'm the one who taught myself to read. It makes me feel like I have a leg up in learning languages or like I'm smarter than your average Joe or something. I'm proud of it.
That was also the year that my diabetes developed. ^o^ My parents were always worried because I'd never want to eat, I just drank a lot and went to the bathroom a lot and whined a lot. I spent my fourth birthday party on a beach chair under a blanket because I felt too sick to move. So they eventually took me to the hospital, and that's where they found out I was diabetic. I really wish I could remember more of showing up—I think I remember my parents telling me we were going to the doctor's, and I remember that they let me have a popsicle. And I remember watching Barney and eating orange jello in the hospital. But that's pretty much it. Every time I read my mom's old scrapbooks, though, I get this huge story about how I was really sick and at risk of dying or something, though, and I was in critical condition and bla bla bla JUST ALL THIS EXCITING STUFF and I don't even remember it. D: It seems so crucial, yet all I have are these anticlimactic bits and pieces and I don't really like it.
When I was five, I think I started actually ~learning.~ I don't remember exactly, but five or six or . . . somewhere in there. I had this green mathbook. It was really simple. But then a couple years later I had the red book, and there was more than just addition and subtraction. Suddenly I had to learn how to multiply. It was confusing.
I started taking piano lessons when I was six. I also noticed what a brat my mom could be sometimes. I don't even know when she changed or if she was always that way, but it was somewhere in there that she started being angry and not appreciating or respecting the rest of us as much as she should've . . . ? XD Though I'm sure I gave her my own share of brattiness, too. I probably still do.
And then I want to actually post this before tomorrow, so, I'll just end the irrelevant little list of memories here and try to continue on Friday. :D
HEY MELLO IT'S YOUR TURN NOW~ GANBATTE!
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