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Day 21 - A picture of something you wish you could forget

In the late 80's, my family moved from a beautiful, old San Diego community called Tierra Santa to a terrible, newly built community called Rancho Penasquitos. I'm convinced that everything that is wrong with America can be found in that terrible armpit of a community.

The year we moved, I began 6th grade at Black Mountain Middle School.



(Note: This is what it looks like now. It looked totally different back then.)

My years there, 6th through 8th grade, were three of the worst years of my life. I was bullied, ignored, lonely and just plain awkward. High School was a little better, but it wasn't until after High School that my life really began.

I should note that I don't ever want to actually forget those years. They made me a stronger person and they built character. Sometimes I think about times like that and I think about now and realize that I must be on the right track.
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