The Punk and the Ballerina

Sebastian

Sebastian's point of view.

My name is Sebastian Marcus Gray. I hate my middle name. The kids in school would call me Sebastian "Fart-us". I was the result of a teen love affair. My parents were 17 when they had me. They didn't have much money but they gave me endless love and devotion. Times were tough but my childhood was good for the most part.

Like most teen parents, my folks broke up but co-parented me well. Through my father, I have a half-sister ten years younger than me named Zelda. I call her my baby sister even though she hates it when I call her that.

I grew up in a poor section of Berkeley, living in Section 8 housing with my mom most of the time. My father lived a poor section, but manage to avoid Section 8 by working as a mechanic. He was always stressed out and exhausted when coming home from work, often drinking a beer or two to help him unwind. If he drank three or more, he would be a nasty drunk, but he was pretty good at sticking to his limits.

I was named after Sebastian Bach, lead singer of Skid Row. My parents were big fans of the band and practically every 80's rock band. Since I was a kid, I loved rock music, singing to every rock song on the radio and MTV. When I was five, I wanted to be Prince when I grew up. As I got older, I was more influenced by The Cure, Pantera, Green Day, Linkin Park, Disturbed, and Avenged Sevenfold.

My, ahem, humble upbringing and style made me stand out from my peers. The snobby rich kids teased me mercilessly. The preps and jocks constantly slamming me against lockers, the girls calling me a scrub, a no good punk. As a preteen, I stopped caring what others thought and embraced my individuality. I wish my younger self would've had that same attitude.

I struggle to read and write. Words look like a trippy illusion to me. I wanted to read comic books and graphic novels but it was all gibberish. That's why I loved my guitar, I could make my own words. My dyslexia was hurting my school performance, everyone thought I was stupid and for the longest time I thought I was. It wasn't until my mother got me tested that confirmed my disability. I wasn't dumb, I just processed words differently.

I hated school anyway, I was going to be rock star. I couldn't wait to get the hell out of there. Soon I could leave this superficial, judgmental city behind. Besides my family, there was nothing there for me.

But I never forgot her.