I was born in Brisbane, my mother was a Reporter and my father was a Real-Estate Agent. I never really struggled as I grew up, I learned to stand and walk when I was two, and I used my hands to slap my parents' calves when they weren't looking. It was a game for me, to slap my hands onto their skin and waddle away before I inevitably fell on my face and giggled louder than before. I would particularly target my father, he would first groan in frustration before realizing I hadn't gained consciousness yet, and then he'd chase me until my chubby face met the floor. I respected my mother's space because she held me more, she would let me sit on her lap as she rewatched through her interviews, talking to the locals or reporting on stories grim and cruel. My area was rather scary until the new lord mayor came in, so my Mom says. His name was Jameson Turk, and he cleaned up the city so well that people begged scientists to make a potion so he could live forever. With a safer environment, my mother had less grim tales to work on. Good for her mental, but it left her wanting. She missed the grim world, and so she would sit in her office and read stories about murderers and kidnappings, criminals convicted with the worst of it all. My mother saw my own interest and grabbed me by the under of my armpits, and sat me on her lap. I grew up with a love for the gloomy and a school-system that just wasn't enough to push me. I was a top 10 student, and I was enamored with the gore of the world. I didn't wish to commit it, I simply wished to witness and write. I wished to journal the cruelty of humanity and allow myself to be greater than my older folks.
I started High School and took an internship at my mother's work, meeting wrinkled faces tired of the job. I understood them, I would hate to sit in front of thousands of people and pretend to be happy. Their eyes were soulless and their hands refused to touch other people, I assume in fear they'll infect the innocent with their misery. I did not go on camera, I only found stories and introduced it to the broadcast. For every story I was paid, and for every story aired it was a bonus. It was a decent chunk of change, enough for me to go out and get me what I want but not enough for me to go out and buy everything. I did not like finding stories on what was good. I found it boring, speaking of a girl with a new lemonade stand or a man saving another cat. It was all so mundane. I remember hearing a question go around the building, it was 'why doesn't anyone watch the news?' and I sat there with an answer clear. People love misery, whether they cringe or cry or stare, they love misery. Gore and blood attract the eye, showcase an impact in life. Perhaps it leads you to think about your own life, or maybe it makes you feel a terrible guilt for something you could have never controlled.
I graduated high school with a number of cords around my neck. I was top of my class. It was to be expected.
