Choppy Choppy

A little personal history.

I was born to parents. I have a sister two years younger than me. My name is Kaiya. Pronounced like kayak without the last 'k'.

You would not believe what variations I get out loud, let alone the random misspellings I get on paper.

Kia, Kayla, Kalya, Kaia?
Really?

Anyways.

I had friends in school.
By grade three I turned into a social retard. Or so everyone thought.
Mostly I just wanted to keep acting like a kid.
In a school where all the kids wanted to act like adults.
So I stopped really having friends.
(Save for a few gooders. Thanks guys.)

By high school I had stopped caring.
I donned black lipstick, bad eyeliner, baggy clothes.
Listened to angry music.
Drew macabre sketches. Terrible ones. In my sketchbook.
I said I was 'goth'.
I really wasn't.
All in an attempt to scare people off.
It didn't really work all that well. Mostly just got me more attention.

Went to a camp that changed my life the summer before grade eleven.
I remember a counsellor was scared of me my second year there.
He voiced his concerns to another counsellor, "But she doesn't like people!"
I was just shy.

I started to like people again. Thanks to that camp.
Made some friends.
Dropped out of high school. It was stupid.
Got my GED.
Worked several jobs.
Found my life.
Cooking.

And thus, we come to the part where I really start my story.
The Freakhouse.