People in your life say they know you. Or say they know you very well. Friends in your school or work life say they know those deep and darkest secrets the feelings deep down inside with no chance of them ever coming up. When they say they know you when you are automatically upset. All in truth, those people don't know the real you… The real me, nobody knows what i've been through in my life and what i've been feeling. Middle school was a very difficult time for me. My mom would work 10-12 hours a day, 6 days a week and she was on third shift… I remember hating it so much because she would sleep all day everyday,. Once their was a choir performance.. My very first one in fact… and I remember being excited to sing for my mom… I remember telling my friend
“ I can't wait till she hears this”

and thinking that I put a lot of work into. this.. And her not showing up.. I felt like a disappointment that maybe I wasn't good enough??

My dad… is another tough story to tell.. He is a heroin addict and has been for year now. I remember when I found out.. It was 7th grade when we lived in a little neighborhood out in the country area.. I was moving my room down into the basement because I finally figured out that I didn't have to share a room with my little brother anymore that i'm old enough to be “on my own”. Looking back on those silly little thoughts of mine when I was younger makes me miss those days.

While I was moving my “stuff” ig when you call a chair, a little wooden dresser and a tv was a lot to a kid like me.. I remember putting the legs back onto my “lazy bed” so I could make my bed thinking I was the coolest kid in the world, When my mom calls down

“your grandmas here”
from the kitchen. I totally forgot during my excitement I JUMPED off my bed and rustled some clothes together and ran outside. To find my Grandparents in the car waiting.

At the dinner we found ourself lost in time and I remembered I would have the house to myself like alone literally.
I get home to find the house dark and quiet. I felt like I was gonna wake up the ghost in our house when I went to get a honeybun from the crikey cabinet. I walk downstairs to find my dad in his work pants and a overhead doors work shirt.  With his eyes rolled back in his head and a needle on a ground with goldish yellowish liquid inside of it..

I remember feeling frozen, like the world stopped and stood still. Like an endless sleep terror with no chance of it ending.

Me watching my father fall back on the basement floor with a needle dropping to the floor was the day I lost all respect for my “father”.. The day a part of me died that day..

After that day, my dad stole from me and my family.. Broke into my aunt's house and stole from her..
He has also been in an out of jail since...

My brother and I fight like pit bulls stuck in a cage. But we've been through alot and are really the only ones who understands each other. That's what makes us so close though. Our bond is unbreakable and no one could replace what we have. He's my bestfriend and my brother.

Thats what ive had to deal with throughout my whole high school and part of my middle school career. I hate sad stories and I hate when someone gives us sympathy. Through everything I've been .. it's made me who I am today and I guess im proud of that, ive proud of who I become.