This is My Story...Part 1

2010-12-16T14:04:00.000-08:00

The story begins...well, like any other story would, starting with my birth of course and I guess with a simple introduction of myself.
My name is Krystalyn Di Marcialigo. I was born and raised in Los Angeles, California April 3rd, 1981. Unlike other cautious parents, mine had me in their teenage years. My mother at 16 and my father at 17. I don't know about them, but picturing myself with children at that age would seriously be a living hell for me. It isn't because of the kids, but all my hopes and dreams for myself would be almost impossible. Besides that, I'm kinda impatient...so kids, watch out. Anyway, a year and a half later, my younger brother, Allin, was born. Those were tough years for my mother. She had to stay home and watch over me and my brother. On the other hand, my father wasn't too good at being responsible. He lived the last of his teenage years partying with his friends while my mother was home watching over me and Allin. She took full responsiblity of the both of us. And don't get me wrong, my father is fantastic, but his lack of fatherhood in those early years of my and brother's life were crucial.
As far as my years as a toddler, I honestly can't remember too much. Not sure why, but I know that if I don't remember there must be a reason behind it. However, I do have a couple of memories I could think back to. One of the few vivid memories was when I attempted to fly. It was the most daring stunts I could have ever pulled. My family and I lived in an apartment down the street from the local park. I remember living on the second floor of the apartment structure. My room had a window looking out towards the direction of the park. Next door, was the perfect house. It wasn't a big house, but it wasn't too small either. It had a front and backyard. The grass was the greenest grass I had ever seen. The back yard had a garden and a couple of trees. One tree was a grapefruit tree and the other an apple tree. If that wasn't perfect, I haven't gotten to the best part yet. The yard had a beautiful playground that was just for the kids that lived there. Everytime I looked out that window, I always looked at that house. It was perfect. Eventually, that became the rountine for me as a young child. I'd look out the window at least once to see that house. I daydreamed about playing in it and tasting the fruit that grew on the trees. But one day, as I looked out the window, I had a weird feeling. I don't quite remember what came over me, but I thought I was able to fly. As I looked out the window I wanted to jump over to that house. Next thing you know, I'm hanging from the window. I don't know if I was scared, but I thought that was I dream when I first recalled it. I asked my mother about that incident. She told me that I was in fact hanging out the window. She said there was no way I could have done that by myself, I was only about 4 years old. I don't think any 4 year old can do that. She did tell me that she felt something tell her to check on me because before that happened, I was fast asleep. Somehow, I think I was protected by something or someone, just not sure what. Anyway, my mother came in screamed in terror and pulled me from what could have been my early death. Fortunately, I never did that again. I think I learned my lesson. Whatever you do, you aren't able to fly, so don't try it! I never really had enemies in my life, but one thing is for sure. My worst enemy then was my curiousity. I will always be grateful for having my guardian angel, my mother, for saving me from near death experiences like that.
If I only knew what I was getting myself into. I often laugh about these types of things, but sometimes I wonder, what if she wasn't there, I would I be writing this? Would I have met such brilliant, amazing people? Would I have been able to experience my teenage years as a normal teenager? And would have I been able to finally know what I want in life and cherish the ones I love? I guess not. It would have been tragic for my parents to have lost me at such a young age. Although I think they might have blamed themselves, it was curiousity that made me do it, sort of. My parents are amazing, they really are. Although their parenting skills aren't that great, they are good loving people that want the best for their children. Personally, my life story doesn't compare to theirs. They have lived through things I wish I'll never have to experience. However, I can say that there are things in my life in which many do not experience good and bad.

story of a daydreamer

This is My Story...Part 1