Personal Narrative: Coming Of Age

Growing up is never easy, and neither is change. I often find these as consistent variables that can build up a city in the middle of a devastation, or create a wasteland from a utopia. All of us relate to “coming of age”.
Although my life did not change immediately, it felt as though it did. Searing and scathing words were burned into my brain almost overnight, even though they had been spoken around me for close to a decade. Lifelong friends and family members abandoned me somewhat instantly, and all too soon I found that change and authenticity are not respected as they were once preached, leaving me in the dust to build together a life of my own.
Church and religion have always been an important part of my lifeline, melding social with spiritual, creating a wellspring within me that makes for a bland narrative when removed. So as one can guess, it will be easier for you to insert stereotypical suburban christian upbringing and be done with what would rather be a three hour story. As far as we are all concerned, this story might not be interesting, but it is the most tumultuous story that can spark in your brainspace. And that is why we are here.
My story needs to be told. It wakes me up in the middle of the night crying, asking for when it may go outside, talk to strangers, and hopefully help a few instances

Appreciation to those who had helped me acquire what I had, submission to the settings and guidelines that were in place in order for me to succeed, and most devastating, self deprivation from anything that might create for me a life that those around me issues vile, defying, and hedonistic. I was sure that I was happy. Cheerful enough, as jovial as I could be. I tend to be one to question those around me and how I might adjust and be a better version, but abandoning all those close to me, just to “fall in love”, and go back to what they once rescued me from was the furthest from my