I have forever been called the girl with no sense, since first grade when I wore green rain boots and a pink tutu to school, I had blond hair and a southern accent, no one wanted to be my friend. They would run away on the playground, or so it seemed, years later I realized they were only running to be first on the monkey bars, a game I cared little for.

Growing up where I did, in the small town, I did, was difficult. My father died when I was young, he was in a car wreck driving to work one day, he took another man with him, he believe went to Hell but I always wonder where the other man went to. I didn't care much that he died, the only memory I have of my father is a poor one,a nd one I wish I could forget. My father, we'll call him George, came home one night in January, just days before my sixth birthday, I heard his car pull up into our driveway, this was nothing unusual, I was sitting on the floor in front of our small television set watching one of my mothers old movies, he walked in, staggering, I was afraid he may fall on me, he had a bottle in his hand and the air around him tasted like smoke. My mother grabbed me to get me away from him, he told her to let me go but she refused, my mother is my defender, my shield, she always will be. He smacked her and she feel, I ran up to my room, crawled under my bed and silently cried. I guess according to my mother he was a good man, though I didn't believe her, never have, not after that day.

My mother has always been afraid of losing me, when i was seven she tried to keep me home from school, the police had to intervene.... I was never fond of policemen not after my father died, I was always afraid they were coming to tell me someone else left my world, leaving it changed forever. My mother took me to work on the few days she actualy went, usualy we went to the park and just sat for hours watching old couples hold hands, and young couples laugh. On other days, when it was miserable outside we went window shopping, held hands and ate ice cream. Then the police came.

When I really began attending school regularly, the teachers all thought I must be stupid, uneducated, retarded even, but I wasn't. My mother was an english major in college, she loved reading and reading to me, I was often given grammar lessens, I knew the nine parts of speech before first grade, and could name poets that I wouldn't be taught in school until junior year in high school

What do you want to be criticized

the story so far, i need opinions, tell me if it needs changes... etc

ok then. Give it more shape and structure. It lacks a certain feeling that draws a reader in

I think you need to replace quite a few of your commas with full stops. You need to chop into your sentences a bit.
"a pink tutu to school. I had blonde hair..."
"or so it seemed. Years later I realised..."
for example.

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My those quiet eyes become you!

Agreed ^^. Try breaking it up into smaller, snappier sentences. Also, who the hell are you? It seems like you've just slapped this all down without explaining the setting. Grammar and spelling looks ok but I think there's the odd mistake.