Where do I even start in telling you the story of my life? I'm Ellie Russo, supposedly born on August 1, 1990. Supposedly, I say, because no one really knows for sure. There's very little record of my first three years here. So we'll have to skip the sunny afternoon birth stories and get straight to the toddler crawling days. It's not that big of a time jump, but I want to give you the full picture of where this mess started.

I was adopted by a nice couple from Boston right around my third birthday. I have no memory of this, but I choose to accept it in good faith. My parents are Jane and Joshua Russo, an adorable and charitable couple who dedicate their lives to helping others. If that wasn't clear by the myriad of children they made theirs, then The Hallowed Hills House should leave no doubt.

The Hallowed Hills, as it's popularly known, is a facility that cares for the mentally ill. Growing up around crazy people ("Don't call them crazy, Ellie.") taught me at a very young age that, up-close, no one is normal. "Abnormality" is something to be respected. I get a lot of pearl-clutching when I talk about this, but all my favorite people have some degree of crazy in them. I mean, they do their shit despite whatever everyone else says they should be doing.

I've never been very good at sticking to the script. As a child, there was no Sunday dress that survived my escapades. I think up until I got through my teens, there was a little concern from my parents that I might end up in jail or in a ditch. Pfft, a little credit, right? Like I'd ever get caught.

And I didn't. I made it all through my childhood and teens without dying--not even once! Mom used to joke that I was a cat with nine lives, because there sure were some close calls. But here I am, a supposed adult at the tender age of 25. I do all the adult things that are expected of me. I have an apartment that I share with my best friend, I have a job that keeps that roof over my head, I have friends and an okay social life. I'm a mildly well-adjusted adult.

But that's the thing, right? "Well-adjusted" is just a way of saying you don't really belong. Well-adjusted means cropping, hiding or painting over everything that makes you different. I love my parents, I love my siblings and I love my life. Maybe that's why it's so hard to acknowledge that somewhere in that happiness, there's the nagging feeling that something's missing.

For a long time, I wanted nothing to do with my biological parents. I didn't ask about their names, why they gave me up, where they were from. I was happy with a family that chose me, every day. I don't know when that changed.

Not the happiness part. It's kind of sicknening how Fullhouse-happy the Russos are. But my biological parents... I have questions now. It's been a few years since I've started wondering. Doesn't everyone wonder? How much of who they are is really them? It's just genetics, and we're not defined by it, science says. But is it really just genetics?

I haven't told anyone yet, maybe I haven't even really acknowledged to myself how much my recent decisions have been driven by this desire to figure out who I am. As a teenager, my first job was with my parents, at the Hills. After highschool, Rhett took on my hostess services at the restaurant. And, you know, I never felt bad about the nepotism and I kinda rocked the coordinating a room thing, but something was still missing.

I did college for a year (hey, I tried), but it wasn't for me. In 2013, I started working for a bail bond firm, Property Bail Bonds. I guess my title would be "executive secretary", but that's mostly code for "keeps the place afloat". My boss owns the company and I'm the only other employee. He's kind of a mess when it comes to administrative papers and procedures, but there's no one better at capturing fugitives. Yeah, he's the bounty hunter. And I swear that was not a dreamysigh you just heard.

He's good at finding people. I keep wanting to ask about my biological parents, but I guess we're not there yet. So I just sit back, enjoy the view and push papers. It's not that bad and he pays me more than I'd get elsewhere. But I have a hidden agenda for all of this. I want him to train me. I want to learn how to find people and kick ass.

I already started a little. Logan's been teaching me, but we're still at the beginning. My mom would say "the first step to getting where you want to be, is taking the first step." So I've taken it. Here's to going for the second.