I Was Stuck In The Streets and You Don't Want To Know What They Did To Me there

I Was Stuck In The Streets With My Crush And This Happened..

From the moment life began for me, there was nothing easy about it. The year I was born - a year that should have been mine - tragedy stuck. My brother took his own life. Was it because of me? I'll never know, but it led my parents into a downward spiral. Children learn more from what parents DO than what they SAY. So when my parents dived headfirst into all kinds of madness and well, you can imagine how two year old me followed their steps...

Without a real parental figure, I was forced to grow up - quickly - surrounded by lit cigz, used syringes, and questionable noises behind closed doors. This was just life for me, until I visited a friend's house - a normal house - and realised just how messed up my life was. But I was still a kid, just trying to cope. So I picked up those lit tools and used them - just like mom - to calm myself.I just wanted to be normal. I remember, when she was around, mom would always fight me on it. But, I mean, she wasn't any better. You don't even want to know what she was inhaling.

And so this was my lifestyle. I had grown so accustomed to it that what started as depression eventually turned into a deep seed of rage. My parents would make sure to train me if I ever got questioned by my school, by anyone. “You never tell them what goes on at home or else they will take you away from me okay sweetie?” She would say.And school wasn’t any easier for me, I was bullied often there too until eventually I had enough and started fighting back. It became an outlet beating other kids up… it was something that I could take out all my hate and anger on, and boy, was I good at it.

As I got older my mom got even deeper with the gangs and I followed suit. Partially because I wanted to look after my mom, and partially because I didn't have much other choice. Deep down, I was still just a scared kid holding onto what little of mom I had left. And so as we strayed further from normalcy, I started running with a local recruitment click for a big gang out where I lived. I was brutally beating up girls just for looking at me funny and continued on and on. It's funny, I was in so deep I found myself at the top of the chain: recruiting other kids into this life.

If my brother could see us, it probably would have broken his heart; a mother and daughter so deep in with gangs and meds that only a miracle could save us. I thought about him often and eventually, I stopped blaming him. Not because I grew up, but because I almost took my own life as well. Not once. Not twice. But three times. I finally understood what he went through, and why.

Eventually, I went back into the job program clean, got my GED and everything. I was turning my life around for the better and finally proud of what I had accomplished and who I had become. I take care of my mom in anyway I can. I did relapse once, and it's easy to, but I'd rather feel the ups and downs of life than feeling nothing. To Arthur, thank you for taking a chance on me and showing me this was possible. To my brother, I wish you were here with me now. And to mom, I love you.

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