The Fan [First Person Point Of View]

Foster Care

I was laying down on the top bunk bed as usual, gazing around my room as there was nothing interesting to do. A small sigh escaped from my lips, questioning myself to why I was given such a boring life. It was a Saturday, 6:30 pm eastern pacific time. As usual I was on my phone creating another story for my amusement. Contemplating on how I should create the story I wanted to write. People have told me that I had a gift in writing, that I had the ability to paint a picture using words which implanted a scene into my reader's brain. I was wearing red shorts that had black and white stripes at the side along with a simple T-shirt. Nothing special, in fact in my personal opinion..my life was not fun at all. I had a few friends but I was close with this one kid at my school, it wasn't that I was anti-social. It was just that I did not want to deal with having snakes in my circle. Besides my gift for writing I had an interest in making music or perhaps specialize in creating songs one day. You know, to put my talent into good use instead of wasting it away inside of a room shared with three other boys. I was the youngest in the household, I was 15 years old and the rest were older than me. It's not really that bad being in foster care, I would chat with my birth mother from time to time. We would facetime and call each other when we did not have any visits. I was told that I was very lucky to be placed into the foster home I was in, my foster was a nice middle-aged lady who was often strict to get us back on track. She treated us like we were her own, as though we were her own children. Took us under her wings and provided for us, she told me to not worry since I was new to the foster care system, that it was only temporarily. To be honest, I know that I am very lucky to be placed in the foster home I was placed in. I live in a very nice neighborhood, it was quiet, we had our own backyard as well. We even have a beautiful dog, her fur was the color of the autumn leaves which whistled in the fall and her eyes were the color of radiant sun. When I first got into the foster home to meet the dog, I was a bit afraid during our first encounter. It was my first time being in the presence of a pitbull up close, but me and her soon became friends a couple of months later. We are practically buddies now. Sometimes when it was dinnertime, while everyone sat down to feast on the delicious meal our foster mother made, the dog would often bark at me for a peice of what I was having.

I shared food with her, I gave her rubbs, she was a very affectionate dog. She was kind, funny and energetic at times. She was amazing, everytime I would enter the house after I came back from school she barked with joy. I remember that one time, one of the foster boy's light tapped me playfully, she got so defensive and started barking at him. Everyone in the foster house understands Spanish so at times it was often hard to communicate with some of the boys. Our foster mother was bilingual, she spoke English and Spanish. She was of Puerto Rican descent. The house that I lived in was very pretty, the interior was medium size. We had a fireplace and a flat screen screen TV connected above the fireplace where we watched Christmas movies and other movies. Our foster mother decorated the fireplace with stocking, she was all about the Holiday cheer when it came to Christmas. I felt blessed being a part of the foster family I was in, honestly I cannot thank God enough for what he has done for me. I know I know, it's weird. Switching to how my life was boring and to speaking about Christmas cheer and movies. The point is that I enjoy where I currently live and I am grateful for being where I am. A few months passed and I was already doing chores and earning my own allowance, everything was going well as usual. A new kid came in, he seemed like an ambivert. Yeah he spoke here and there, I asked him if he already met the dog, he told me that he did. That he was used to pitbulls. He was a fair skinned latino male with a slender body portion and his hair was at the length of his shoulders, his spiraling curls lying down on his back. I asked the kid how old he was and what he was into, you know, to start out a conversation in an attempt to befriend him. We spoke and spoke, he told me that he was into video games like Pub G. A shooting game that was popular at the time. It was a mobile game and a game that you could play on a gaming system. I told him that I heard about the game before but I just wasn't interested in downloading it on my phone. The kid was clearly taller than me, I was the shortest in the house, he was about 5 foot 9 inches.  But I was not THAT short, yes...I've been called a midget by my peers in school. But oh well, FUCK THEM! I can care less about their idiotic opinions of me. And to that I give them the middle finger my friend. They can say whatever they want about me, opinions or opinions, an opinion is like a fly...it is heard but meant to be taken seriously to heart. All I see is idiots stating nonsense, they do not think before they speak but act before they think. It's a shame really. I only liked one girl in my grade, the rest I do not have any interest in. They have too much expectations of love, to them love is a game. But to me, love is a burning passionate flame that one soul forms with another.