Don't forget me

"& I said hey, what is your name? I am the same, this is no game. Let's run away to the place where we will stay til the end of our days."


This is my story. So the world will know.


I was born on May 27th to a woman who had two kids before. My older brother & sister both from different men. My father was a different man too. She was a coke head, a smack head, a thief & a liar. World class manipulator & beautiful before the drugs & drinking ravaged her body & looks. She was in & out of prisons. She was not a mother, she did not hold me when I was born. I was adopted after a round of foster care.
She had two more kids after me. My half brothers & sister. I am one of five. My mother couldn't take care of me, didn't want to, she had just gotten out of prison when she was knocked up with me & had me. She was raised Catholic so abortion was always out of the question. god I wish she had killed me. I was born with Valium in my system as well as a host of other drugs & was thought to have fetal alcohol effects.I grew up different in an adopted family, I never belonged. Kids as young as nine would tell me "no one wanted me." Before that at the age of seven a young boy name Andrew & his best friend Scott thought it was hilarious to cover their faces & mock scream in terror whenever they saw me, getting the rest of the kids in our after school daycare to follow suit. I was seven fucking years old & thought I was a monster. Self-esteem ripped from me before I even knew what it was. I look at pictures from my past & I see a bright, curly haired little blonde girl with wide blue eyes that look so sad even though I am smiling. Due to the abuse I suffered in the womb (it is, as doctors have often told me "A miracle I came out with all my limbs in tact & limited birth defects physically") I grew up slightly 'slower' than most kids even though my reading & writing was off the charts & grades higher. I was seven reading at an eight grade level. In first grade I once read a book to my class & the teacher or someone reportedly had told my adopted mother "She must have memorized that book from you reading it to her." to which my adopted mother replied "We just bought it for her yesterday." In other words I would have had no time to memorize anything because the book was so new & my parents hadn't had a chance to read it to me yet. I remember being as young as six maybe? & my old man would read to me a bedtime story & it was no kid shit either. My first love of JRR Tolkien began with my old man who read me The Hobbit who then proceeded to read me The Lord of The Rings Trilogy after. By the time I was ten I was reading other works of JRR. It wasn't always so bad between my old man & me.

But as I grew up my old man had his own mental issues & I guess he just didn't know how to cope with a young daughter--I often wonder if I had been a son if it would have been different ya know? He use to get physically violent with me, grab me by my hair drag me around, throw me against walls. It stopped around eleven because I told him I'd kill him. My adopted parents had all kinds of problems within their marriage, I would st on the stairs late at night as young as eight & listen to them argue in hushed whispers. Listen to my mom call him a "shithead" it was my first cuss word. "I don't know where you learned that!" From you mommy. By the time I was around twelve I was reading "mature" books, my adopted mom wouldn't let me read The Three Wives Club because a chapter so eloquently said "Fuck You Marty!" but I read Psycho at a young age & if you've never read the book, it's disgustingly graphic how he kills these women. Middle school was the hardest you know? Even now writing it about it all these years later I tear up because I think of the savage injustice done to me, to a HUMAN. Let down by not just the kids but the teachers, the principal, the entire school system. I was horrendously bullied, I can't put into words what happened to me as a child for three years. It was so fucking bad, this school that prided itself on "blue ribbon esteem" in helping kids, promoting a safe learning establishment was one of the cruelest places I had ever suffered through. It changes you. It fucking changes you. I realize now that I never truly had a chance to be anything more than pain. Pain is what I was born from, what I lived through, what I survived for so long. One cut after another, one scar upon another, thick & broken jagged lines.    

By the time I was fourteen & a half, 9/11 had happened & everyone was in turmoil. Three years of constant abuse at the hands of my peers, sexually inept with boys but longing for love, snorting lines in the bathroom just to feel okay in my own fucking skin & I stole a car. I stole a fucking car, boosted it from a parking lot at the mall. I could have killed myself. I didn't know how to drive, I was a child. Between that & the abuse at school, I met a boy online named Tyler who was nineteen. I don't talk much about him, for a long time--especially in the 90s early 2000s--online sexual predators weren't talked about. We didn't have laws like they do now. Most teens think the net has been around forever, it's a fairly new actually past twenty or so years. I was thirteen just turned fourteen & we met offline, I was a child & he was an adult, I didn't know what we did was wrong until much later. I had thought this cool older boy liked me & wanted to be with me, but he really just wanted sexual things, he was a bad person. My parents let it happen under their roof. Who lets their young teen daughter bring a strange young adult male they met offline into their bedroom & close the door? I had a Snow White bed spread. Magazine pictures of boy bands on my walls--I was a child. Now that I am older I see more of a correlation between my abuse & my lock up. Having suffered abandonment from my own biological mother at birth, neglect in the foster homes I was in led me to develope RAD (Reactive Attachment Disorder) This happens when a newborn or toddler is not given the care & attention they need to mature. It is essential that a newborn through toddler is not neglected not just for the safety of the child but so that emotionally their needs are met. We are incredibly social creatures & thus, socialization & nurture/care is not a want it is a basic NEED. I was denied that & to this day my adopted mother will randomly complain that as a child I shyed away from hugs & kisses when she tried. I couldn't stand being touched. When I was three months old in my first foster home, I was told again by my adopted mother that the foster mother thought I was "retarded." I was lazy, lying there in my crib, weak necked couldn't do much other than cry. She believed me to be a lost cause. Much much later it turns out I was detoxing from the drugs & drink my biological mother had done while pregnant with me. My adopted mother told me when they got me at ten months old, she put a mirror in my crib & I would babble away at the mirror image thinking it was another baby in a language only a baby would know or understand. However, any time she entered my room or I became somehow aware of another presence, I stopped talking & was very still & quiet. I was not "retarded" as the foster mother thought, simply afraid. Even at such a tender age I was somehow keenly aware that people hurt people. I was fucking afraid at ten months old.

Subsequently I did end locked up around fourteen & a half as stated earlier. While the world mourned 9/11 I was shipped off to an institute that promised to "help me." I was already showing signs of drug use, running away & a love of knives. I was still trying to find love in all the wrong places. My own adopted father & I were no longer close, my adopted mother was never home & I was left to my own devices. I sought comfort in my room alone, with a bottle. I cried every day. I had nearly a hundred pictures I had amassed from sixth grade, of the kids in my class drawing stick figures of me dying or words that said "DIE BITCH DIE" & I would take them home you know? Pin them up & look at the wall & wonder why everyone hated me so much. Bullying wasn't talked about like it is now, it was "kids being kids." You did what you could to survive, if that meant throwing up in the school bathrooms before first period every day that's what you did. god I was so angry. I ended up in an abusive place from fourteen & a half to eighteen. Isolation rooms where they "broke" you. Took everything from you, I was told many times I would not make it past eighteen, that I was a "nothing" a "loser."  I wouldn't let them break me though & for that the staff targeted me more, I lived in silent fear I would be sent out of state to a worse lock up, kids would disappear in the dead of night in cuffs. Never got to say goodbye, never got to see them again. It was so bad that California is a place I could never see myself going back to, I ran away from there for so long, kept on running.

When I got out I dealt drugs. It was how I survived. The name I was called was Ghost. I was eighteen years old had no real education, no real job prospects & I was on the outs with my parents because of what I felt they had done to me, which was keep me in middle school for three years, then lock up. When they knew what was happening to me. Do you know what it's like to be in isolation rooms? No windows one door locked, no light. No idea if it's morning or night. Eat your breakfast lunch & dinner down there, you're allowed out three times to go to the bathroom. It fucks you up, I couldn't stand people after that, being around them. I became use to alone. I wouldn't wish that on anyone.

I met my ex boyfriend when I was twenty. This part man. He beat me a lot. I lost track after the 25th beating maybe? I stopped counting because I was numb. I stopped caring. It was an awful drug induced relationship a lot. I thought I loved him but like most males he disappointed me. In the end he told me he never loved me. I don't write much about him. I don't like to acknowledge what happened to me but oh god i wear the scars on the outside & inside of what he did to me. I have been punched, kicked, choke slammed, a gun shoved in my mouth & nearly killed by choking from him.


All I am is pain.

I survived. You know isn't it crazy? I NEVER had a chance to be more, I was constantly put down made to hate my own body, told by teachers etc I was "retarded" "i couldn't have this job because I was stupid." poisoned myself with drugs with drinking, found love in every wrong place & now?

I have a 4.0 GPA in college, I had made plans to go to John Jay College of Criminal Justice or do online courses there. I have fucking picked myself up from the floor more than once, I have cried so hard I puked, I have curled up on the floor in the fetal position & wished for fucking death, too passionless to kill myself cuz let's be honest--killing yourself takes some fucking passion. I have been lost, beaten, put down, I have trust boys who never deserved it. I have lost myself in drugs, I have survived a place that looks like Mary fuckin' Poppins but was worse than juvi. I have survived meeting my biological father & him lying to my face that he didn't know I was alive because he gave my mother money to abort me. He knew I was alive. I have screamed so hard I couldn't talk for a week, I have been brutalized..this world has given me nothing but pain.

But I still give back. I still love as pure as if I was never hurt, I still smile as if nothing hurts because today is a beautiful day, I don't let words get me down at least not in a way anyone knows. I smile on cam, I laugh & I love hard or go the fuck home. I help those in need & I stay true to myself.

I never had a fucking chance man. I still give back to a world that never wanted me.

This is my story

I hope you remember me. because I am tired. I am sick & I am tired. I have a hard time in telling people how bad it gets for me. I try to be positive, I was born in an era where you didn't talk about this shit. It hurts to breathe.

god this is my story, please don't let it be unknown.

I was a real person, I was a real human being & I had real feelings & real heart.  I didn't deserve this. Yet I still tried to make the best & it never works out.

I'm tired.

You know where I come from, where I could go, but only I know where I am headed.

Please don't forget me.