Get to Know Cinderfella

Written Friday, December 15, 2006

A lot of people say that whatever happens to you as a child will play a part in the person you become as an adult. As much as I wish i could change a lot of the things that happened to me in the past, I know that its made me the person who I am. One can only think though... Is that always a good thing. My childhood has made me build a wall that i havent let people into. I trapped my self into a fortress, built a moat and filled it with my own tears. However, the people who are the closest to me would probably tell you the complete opposite.
Unlike most people I am fully aware and am willing to admit why I built walls. Building walls was the only way to protect the person behind the facade. I think that I was born to be an actor, because all my life I have been forced to pretend to be something that I wasnt. My mother, father, grandmother even friends all pushed me in directions that I knew I didnt want to go. Now dont get me wrong, I love my family and im sure they only did what they thought they were doing what was right for me. But It wasnt.
One of my earliest memories of my childhood was of Mike Jackson. No I have never been to Neverland Ranch. BUT I was the Number One Micheal Jackson fan. I was about 5 or 6 years old and I could do the moonwalk, i had the jacket, the glove , lol, everything. One night my family and I stayed up to watch the world premier of M.J's "Remember the time" video. The one where he was all egyptian and he turned to dust. It was right after bathtime and in honor of the video I wore a black T-shirt with Micheal Jackson's face that was about as big as I was. I dont know why but for some reason I went into my mother's closet. I scrambled around looking for that "something extra. (Even as a child i knew about accessorizing.) My mother the called my name. I grabbed my mothers belt and wrapped it around my waist while examining myself and then ran downstairs. As I reached the bottom of the stairs the first thing I saw was my sister. I stood proudly in my ensemble, grinning from ear to ear. My sister was smiling but not in a way that seemed the least bit friendly and her eyes said something that scared me. "Mama, look at Josh" my sister cackled in a way that seemed half laugh and half scream. My mother turned and screamed at me, "Get your black ass up those stairs and take that shit off." I just stood there. Partially because I was scared out of my mind, but also because the video had just started. I tried to get her to understand that I wanted to watch the video. BIG Mistake. My mother charged at me grabbed my by my arm literally drug me up a flight of stairs. " Aint no sissies in this house. My little heart was broken. Not only did I not get to watch my video but my Mother hurt me, it wasnt being drug up about 15 stairs and having to go to bed so early. It was that word. Sissy. I didnt know what it was. I knew that it was bad , I knew that my mother hated whatever a sissy was. And my five year old heart knew as I cried myself to sleep that it wouldnt be the last time I would hear that word.
Allow me to reintroduce myself. Or rather introduce a part of me that very few of you know. This isnt a pity party, or meant to be a sob story or a cry for help. I am not a martyr. Honestly this is an outlet for me to tell a story that ive been wanting to tell for years. I wont give you everything. I wont even give you the half . Just know that as you read these entries that
This is me.