Activity Check: 155
Sometimes I look back on my life and I think to myself – who influenced me? Why did I turn out the way I turned out? I mean, let’s be real here, it isn’t like I’ve made the best life decisions. In fact, that statement alone is beyond an understatement. So, who influenced me? Who made me want to be the way that I am? Maybe the fact that I don’t have an answer to that question is exactly the problem. I had a mom, a dad, an older brother. I suppose I looked up to them each in their own way…until I didn’t anymore. My parents were a train wreck, instilling nothing more than unrealistic expectations and verbal abuse within us. It definitely could have been worse, but it certainly wasn’t great. I looked up to my older brother for a while too, but then I started seeing him as weak. He let our parents do what they did, get away with it with ease and without fighting back. He was supposed to protect me, but he didn’t. In the end though, he made up for it as our greatest moment became our worst. Though, he hasn’t even attempted to find out if I’m still alive and it’s been over ten years. So much for protection, I guess. My teachers, while I was in school, weren’t that great either. They shared just as unrealistic views and expectations as my parents did. I guess my biggest influence would have to be the circus – years of travelling with people from all walks of life. We were a family, a real family, despite the abuse and drugs and everything else that came with it. They helped shape my life in ways that I couldn’t even begin to express, and it’s something I’ll always remember. I don’t think that’s quite the answer I’m looking for, however, when I think of an influence. There is one person that does come to mind, though. A woman that I met on the road. I was never able to catch her name, but for the few hours I shared with her, she managed to change my life. She was beautiful, strong. She had managed to escape an abusive relationship and always had a smile on her face. She had vices and issues, but she didn’t seem to let them hinder her. I ran into her after a performance with the circus once and she managed to catch me in conversation for hours. It felt like all night. When she disappeared, I knew I wanted to be exactly like her, I had to. I wanted to be beautiful and strong, to walk around with my head held high and a smile on my face no matter what I was going through. I wanted to be able to escape, to live freely as she had done. I needed to be like her. I wanted to make her proud even though I knew I’d never see her again.
