(poems go here) In all of my seventeen years of living I’ve never came to a point to where I just wanted to kill everyone and everything that was hurting me in any shape or form and not care about the consequences. I sometimes even question my faith and second guess myself and say damn I should just blast my brains out in front of the world? Then I sometimes say that would be some pretty messed up stuff, so I continued to think ahead and in a sense of the future and the alternatives. But why should I be a prisoner in my own thoughts, my own body? Why should I be a slave at my freedom? So instead of premeditating murder on others and hurting myself why not express my thoughts on paper and share them with the world?
I never knew that writing would be one of my talents that God has given me until one day that talent was banned from me. I was fourteen going on fifteen when I first got kicked out of the house. I got kicked out for writing in a journal on how I felt about people and what I felt the way I did since I really didn’t have anyone to talk to or go to, so I turned to writing. My father well I like to call him my sponsor because he hasn’t been a father to me in almost five maybe six years. All he does is complain about how he is going to make ends meet but yet has enough money to supply other people and his other three kids, and well me when I ask. That’s why I don’t ask for much, but that’s another story for another chapter. Where was I? Oh yeah why I got kicked out. My sponsor had this middle age chick he was going with who didn’t like me. He was the type to put a woman before his own flesh and blood. I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree seems that he was left at the washhouse and abandoned to an unknown woman who I call my grandmother who I love. But anyhow this chick went through my stuff and read what I had, now why in blue sky hell is she going through my stuff when the chick wasn’t doing for me? Good question. So my sponsor had his cousin to watch my brothers and me for a week while he went away on duty or out of town. She was a cool young chick I thought I could trust. BOYYY was I wrong. Long story short she got information he wanted out of me about me not being happy or whatever and that’s all he needed. For my fifteen birthday he kicked me out. He brought me a plane ticket to Raleigh, North Carolina to go live with my grandmother for the remaining of my years. Of course I didn’t stay up there long but that’s not the point. I got kicked out of my home because someone persuaded him to kick me out for writing how I feel, for expressing my thoughts.
When I write I feel free, I feel life, hope, driven, inspired and brave. Writing is my escape from life for just a moment. But anyhow right now at 9:54 Pm May 31, 2013 I am feeling way better than I was before I mean I’m relieved. Anyhow so I’m going to wright. Wright about what makes me happy, what makes me sad, angry, hurt, hungry, depressed, tired, lonely, excited, and what makes me who I am. So you can either stop reading because you don’t want to hear me vent and give you my version or you can go get a snack, find a comfortable area dim the lights and read my stories, my poems, my philosophy, my testimony and my future plans.