Beginnings

I grew up in a tiny little house on a tiny little street on the outskirts of a very large neighborhood. I have a younger sister named Rachel and an older brother named Ryan, which, as I'm sure you've already figured out I hope, squishes me in between as the dreaded "Middle Child" of the family. I'm loved enough, I guess. They pay for me to do what i like, they let me have friends over, and as an added bonus, they care about me to a certain extent. I think about the whole Middle Child Syndrome thing from time to time, but I have to admit that it's probably just my subconcious excuse for my problems when i'm having a bad day or something. I just have to tell myself to suck it up and be tough about it. I have a great family, friends who love me, a reasonable level of intelligence to decide the right decisions for myself...what the heck am I complaining about? Honestly, sometimes I have no idea.