My story.

I guess you can say it started from the day of my birth. The world dealt me shitty cards, and it was my job to work with them. I was born to a drug addicted mother, and a jail bird of a father. My mother revealed that she had smoked crack three hours before I was brought into this world. I don't know if it was God, or just fate that I was unharmed. To be honest I don't believe in either one. According to my family I lived with my mother until the age of two. Social services had took me away from my mother due to the fact the restaurant across the way had reported the living conditions of my mothers home. When the social workers had found me I was covered in my own waste, and playing around in the dirt while my mother was asleep in her run down trailer. Before I go on into the adoption process I would like to give insight of how great my mothers parenting skills were. Before I was adopted by my fathers great aunt, one of my guardians sisters had strolled into a nearby alley, where she seen my mothers car parked. There she found my older sisters, and I sitting in the car alone, waiting for our mother. My mother had parked in an alley to go smoke crack with some of her friends and left us alone. My guardians sister then retrieved me from the car and took me into her home to bathe me. I was returned to my mother the next day, who had not even noticed I was missing. My mother, who is *please forgive me* a no good crack whore, had already had five children, four from a previous man, and another from my father. My brother and I were separated after he was adopted by my fathers mother. Now begins the adoption process. I was adopted by my fathers aunt, my great aunt. The social workers believed I was being placed into good hands, which they were right up until the age of 7. I was molested by my fathers cousin who had been staying at my guardians house because he was just released from prison. I was young, and innocent, and all that was taken away. I kept my mouth shut because I was afraid to open up. Truly, this is the first time I've even spoke of it. He was not the only one to molest me though. Another one of my fathers cousin, who's a bit slow. Mind you this boy isn't retarded. He knows right from wrong and he knew that touching me was wrong so he told me to keep quiet, but I didn't. I told his mother what he had done, and she just shook her head and said " He doesn't know any better, he has a mental problem". I was given the cold shoulder. Just when I thought life couldn't get any worse my father shows up in the picture. At first I was as happy as can be because my father was home. I was ecstatic. I believed my father was the greatest. This was short lived though, he returned back to prison a few weeks after. I was torn to pieces, and confused. My father promised he'd never leave me and he did. Now comes the mental abuse, my guardian had a sister who lived with us, and everything was great up until the point where I turned 11. She would constantly remind me of how my mother was a whore, and my father was a good for nothing piece of shit and that I would grow up to be just like them. She'd tell me that  I was unwanted by my fathers immediate family. Which I believe is true, and I'm glad about it. My brother was taken in by my fathers immediate family, and he was brain washed and spoiled. My fathers immediate family are wealthy assholes. They saw me struggle financially at my guardians house and did nothing to help, and to this day they still do nothing as i struggle day by day. My father and i are treated like the black sheep of the family. They are ashamed to even mention our names. I love my father to bits, and the fact they turn their backs on him makes my blood boil. He tries to make me reconsider and have a relationship with his sisters and parents, but I did okay without them for 18 yrs, so they can rot in hell. Sorry about that, back to the mental abuse. my guardians sister would constantly tell me that If I were to be bed ridden, on my death bed she'd never visits, or even shed a tear. my whole adolescent life I had to deal with her abuse, and i became what she said I would *not the whore part*. In freshman year I began to drink heavily, and run away from the house. I was constantly being arrested by the police and being taken back to that house.. I just wanted to get away from that house. It never felt like a home to me. I always felt unwanted and useless. I sank into a deep depression, and stopped eating. I'd go days without food, solely water. it gotten to the point where I became anemic and malnourished. I began having fainting spells, and eventually wound up in the hospital because I had collapsed in the shower, and hit my head against the sink. During my sophomore year I decided enough was enough and I left the house for good, and set out to live with my biological mother. To my luck she had just moved into a apartment in LA. I went to live there just to find out that I'd be paying for the rent and everything else that came along the way. It wasn't bad, I was able to do the things I wanted. I'd leave for days, drink, smoke, and come back home when I ran out of money. My mother and I had a friendship for the most part. School had become pointless to me and I dropped out. Theres more to my story but my neck is beginning to cramp so I'll wrap it up and save the rest for a new entry :)