It all started when I was born, not that I’d remember when I was born. I barely remember yesterday. I definitely don’t remember most of my childhood. The bits and pieces I do remember I almost wish I didn’t. You know those moments when you ‘reminisce’ horseplaying with your dad, or your mom telling you stories from when she was little. The ones about her mother, and her little blah blah blah. I don’t have those. I couldn’t tell you the first, or the last thing about my mother. I lived with her for 17 years. I wish I didn’t. What I can tell you is that she was unwell. I didn’t notice, and I don’t think that she did either. To be fair, I don’t think anyone let her notice. Nov. 11th 1966. Born, complete darkness as far as I know then bam, June 28, 1991, her first child with her first husband. I’m sure that at some point she was happy, I mean you had to be to have a child. right? Then. bam 4-1992 she’s with second child by her first husband. Grandma must have been so excited, her second grandchild right before that ***** cancer came in and took her from us and my ‘mother’ dealt with her first divorce after having child #2. Couldn’t tell you why they didn’t work , I could guess but one would never know. Then she met the love of her life, very quickly I might add, and not long after getting married, 5-1993 she found out she was having the best thing that ever happened to her. If you could hear the sarcasm in my voice, you’d know that I was talking about myself. The one that must have been the making of either a bitter ex, a regular whore, or a lonely woman in search of a life worth living. I wish I could have been that for her but I wasn’t. I was the ‘you wasn’t a mistake ‘child’. You know the one. 11-1995 Child #4, she finally got the joy of her life. With the boyfriend that she had been waiting for all of her life. The guy that all her kids would call their stepdad. The guy who paid the bills, had his life somewhat together. Imagine, inherited a house and the property it sat on from his grandma. The guy that made my life a living hell. I didn’t recall events until later on in life, but they are the events that keep me petrified today. Burns and scars that I can never forget. 17 years of feeling like nobody cared about me, followed 11 years knowing that it was true. Having to live with the truth. It’s sad, my mother lives with the truth, everyday. She’ll tell you today, that she doesn’t know what to believe. Her two middle children or the father of her only child. Two adults, one incarcerated, the other moving on to bigger and better things. Didn’t have time to put together the story. One day at visits, the tears started flowing from my eyes, she ask what, what’s going on? Listening to her brother cry and tell her what he had been dealing with for 11 years while everyone was asleep. Breaking down to tell him, that the same was happening to her. That she remembered when it stopped, and was relieved. Now, she learns that it didn’t stop. He just found a new person to prey on. Using the instability of the mother to keep his little secret a secret, until his arrest. Block 3 for me PC for him, a year for me, three nights and a plot of land with a house that collapsed in on itself not six months after finally moving years before. The house that left my clothes smelling of mildew, the creator of my fear of falling into the toilet, and the fear of older men that I still have today. The house the housed the wood burner that took the feeling from the tip of my member. Finally, I was free to go, nearly a year after I was incarcerated. I put the clothes on that I had to my name, my nike flights, a pair of underwear, and a pair of shorts. Called for my older sister, must have been 3 times. No answer. I’m free. Except the 12,000 dollarrs of debt, and 5 years of reporting probation and the constant reminder that I was and I always would be alone. My sister broke the news, she’s moving. To Florida and I’m not allowed to come. I get to stay to rot. I spent the next few years trying to find my way, instead found speed. While he’s married to my mother, and free. I’m free, no home, no family, and no chance,. Met my first boyfriend, came out for the boy. He was so greatful, he left a dent in my head using a Galaxy note 8 and slept with our coworker on the roof of the restaurant I was working at while we was all supposed to be closing the store. Stupid of me to think a man could be real. Finally moved on to the next guy, next city, Things got better, I thought for sure life would continue to get better. One summer he told me that he was leaving moving to Arizona. We never came back from that, it broke my heart. He came running back singing and proposing to me with my friends. The look on their face when I had to tell him no. He became the past , meanwhile my new man was having me commited every chance he got. Pretending to be innocent so he could Baker Act me. Abuse me mentally and emotionally. No trust would come from me again. Leading to this man. The one after, he started off untrustworthy, but its fine. You can’t gain trust that you never had in the first place. Always find the victims I guess. 29, teeth falling out, addictions running rampant, we got evicted because he could MPX. We headed out. Cleveland, Pittsburg, then Atlanta. My first time as a prostitute. Headed out Jacksonville, Daytona Beach, Orlando, Boca Raton. Fort Lauderdale, Miami, drugs, bath houses sleeping in a Kia Rio. Naples, Fort Myers. Happy birthday sis. I’m in town, I might be living in my car. Months have gone by still no answer. Stil no home.,Teeth rotting, homeless and scared from Cleveland to Tampa…. To be continued,