I met him in the middle of my 8th grade year. All my friends would talk about him. How amazing he was and how great he made them feel. He was the boy next door; an all-Mexican-American boy. The boy all our parents wanted us to end up with. I fell in love with him 4 years later. Country Music, my second love, my first TRUE love.
At the time, I was at my rebellious stage. I was into NOFX, the Misfits, Blink 182, and Motion City Soundtrack (to name a few). I would wear skinny jeans, Spitfire logo shirts, and DC’s. All my jewelry had some sort of spike on it. I was convinced my parents knew nothing and that they didn’t really care about me. At school, I would get made fun of or talked bad about. I was weird, I was a “slut” (fun fact: actually lost my V card in college), I was too smart, I wasn’t smart enough, I was too dark, I wasn’t dark enough, I was too “white”, I was too Mexican, and many many more things people didn’t like me for or didn’t give me the time of day because of. Continue reading