In far

I am 16. My parents divorced at 6. My mother remarried an abusive man who liked to beat the shit out of us whenever the mood struck him, mostly in the middle of the night.

We would wake up to someone punching or choking us.

I ran away, was assaulted and returned home to find myself being shipped off to Virginia with my father to live.

My eating disorder became noticeable.

I was institutionalized in a facility that was later closed down due to abuses on it’s patients.

I was home for 3 months, still battling myself and kicked out on the streets by my stepmother.

I went to live with a guy I just met at a mall who’s father was a schizophrenic hoarder in a house overrun by dogs and red phones.

I am tired… but I am surviving.

And I have 22 more years to share with you.


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