About Me
Tarra Danes.™
March 23, 1981. The day I, Tarra Danes, was brought into this world. I was born in Los Angeles, a city supposedly full of hope and dreams. I guess the brochure doesn't mention the possibility of hope and dreams fading away. Because when your life is like mine, there's nothing more than just fading away. I'm not somebody, I'm just a being that takes up space in the world. I am just a girl that is nice to everybody, but not everybody is nice to me. Who would have known that all of that would dissapear back into hope, just by a deadly car accident? I was supposed to die, but I was given a new life. A new life like no other.
January 16, 1972. Meredith Scott and Richard Danes fell in love on a crowded subway ride home. All the seats were taken, Richard had no choice but to sit with a young, beautiful, red-headed woman. He got the nerve to ask her to dinner. She said yes, and gave him her name, Meredith. Two years later, on February 4, 1974, they were married in a huge chapel in California. Richard continued his practice as a heart surgeon, while Meredith stayed at home. Seven years later, I was brought into their world. They had so many plans and dreams for me, knowing I'd be special. The only thing was, as I grew up, the plans and dreams started to become doubts and fears.
I grew up in Los Angeles. It was just me, my father, and my mother. We had a nice two-story house, thanks to my father's line of work. He made a lot of money, that gave us everything we needed. I was never the prettiest of girls. I was pale and had fire-engine red hair. Not exactly attractive to the California type of people. Life seemed to be okay though. I had my mother and father, which I thought was I needed. But a few days after my eleventh birthday, life took a drastic wrong turn. My father hung himself, after work in his office. Why? We didn't know, and never found out. Him and my mother did have their occasional arguements. But life seemed to be okay. Only sometimes, I feel it was because of me. He never seemed to proud to claim me as his daughter. My mother told me not to feel guilty, it was neither of our faults. But guilt is not an emotion that can easily be taken away. Guilt is an emotion that will build up, and refuses to go away.
My mother got enough money from his death to get us by, but she still needed a job. She became a waitress at a local Huddle House, while I just stayed at home by myself. School wasn't any better. I wasn't popular, but I wasn't a geek either. I was nobody. I was invisible. I made good grades, but teachers never called on me for an answer. They even forgot my name when they called attendance. I accepted it and got by. I never had friends. I never had anyone more than a friend. After a while, it didn't bother me. I felt like it was okay, and not as bad as many would have it seem. My mother seemed to still love me, and worked to take care of me. During those years of my life, it seemed okay.
My senior year, I got a scholarship to New York University. My dream college. My dream place. A place far away, where nobody knew me. I could start over, and maybe be somebody. My mother was more proud of me than ever before. She still worked at the Huddle House. I didn't want to leave her, but I had to go. New York University wasn't so bad. I still had my short red hair, and those obnoxious coke bottle glasses. Not much changed yet. But, I met someone who changed my life. Claire Mason. She was my roommate. I was jealous of her at first. She was so pretty and had gorgeous, blonde hair. We became like sisters. We argued, over studying, clothes, guys. Everything. But we would forgive each other. She helped me change myself. I grew out my hair, and dyed it blonde. I became more noticable, and me and Claire together were a match nobody could handle.
UNDER.MAJOR.CONSTRUCTION.
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