Dear Life,

My name is Sammi.

I surely hope,

you remember me.

I was the little girl,

who used to look at you,

and the world,

as the nicest place in existance.

But,

I was wrong.

See, life,

you didn't show me a nice place,

or a wonderful home.

You didn't teach me how to live,

or enjoy my life at all.

You made me survive.

Notice how I say made,

instead of taught.

See,

because you did not teach me anything.

I taught myself,

how to survive.

I taught myself,

how to keep my head above the water.

While you constantly sat there trying to drown me.

See,

you made me look at people differently,

than I wanted to.

I wanted to see the good in everyone,

and you forced the light out of my sight,

so that all I could see was the darkness.

And you lured me in,

with no flashlight,

no food,

no water,

nothing.

You made me survive this little game you liked to play.

Made me see reasons why I only deserved to die.

And I tried,

many times,

to comply with your wishes.

But see, life,

I had people to stand beside me.

People to guide me,

and care for me.

Even when I wouldn't listen,

they wouldn't give up on me.

See,

I had to learn the hard way.

I learned the meaning of breaking and entering,

before I ever learned the meaning of home.

I had to go to my vacant neighbor's house,

to use their water to take a warm shower.

Had to go to the food pantry to eat for the night.

Never knew,

for the longest time,

where I was going to sleep.

See,

I had to move from place to place,

for the longest time in my life.

I had to constantly meet new people,

who were supposed to "take care of me".

Only to end up meeting people,

who never gave a damn at all.

Only to meet people who thought it was okay,

to put their hands on my family,

and never face the consequences of it.

And if I had the chance,

I would have let them feel the pain ten times what they did to my sisters.

I had to learn the meaning of homeLESS,

before ever learning the meaning of home.

I lived in shelters,

and food pantries that doubled as shelters.

Had to stay with "friends"

who eventually kicked us out

and never spoke to us again.

I had to struggle before I could ever win.

I lost my friends when I moved

throughout 8 different schools.

Never knew what it was like to just be stable,

to be still.

To never have to worry about not being able to pay the bills.

To never worry about when their coming to shut off the water,

or the gas,

or the electric.

To never worry about what bed I'm going to sleep in,

if even a bed at all.

Life,

you taught me nothing,

but forced me into everything.

See, 

I was so used to being abandoned,

that I threw myself at the boys in my neighborhood.

I didn't give them all of me,

but I did give parts of me,

that I never should have.

Let their fingers trace parts of me,

that the light of day had never even seen.

I was called a whore,

and I was "easy" for them

to grab,

to touch,

to kiss,

and whatever else they pleased.

I hated looking at myself in the mirror,

because all I could see,

was a fat and ugly piece of meat.

I got away about a year later,

but only once I had attempted suicide for the first couple times.

Drove to my sisters foster house

at 5 in the morning.

Wrote a letter to them

about how sorry I was we were in this situation.

And to their foster mother,

thinking she'd put her hands on them,

and that she'd get away with it.

Ended up falling in love with the guy who took me,

only to end up trying to die again three years later.

When we snuck out and took my foster roommate with me,

and she asked if she could lay with him as I had done,

and he said he didn't care.

Left her a note two days later with his schedule,

and contact information.

I ran into the basement with a butterknife and a fork,

repeatedly cutting and scratching my arm.

Several times almost plunging it through my heart.

See,

I thought I'd found the one.

The one who'd take care of me the rest of my life,

as he had already been doing.

The one I'd marry and build my house with,

the one who'd be the last person I'd ever kiss.

But,

he broke my heart into pieces,

the same way you did.

I had to learn what it was like to be imprisoned,

before I learned what it was like to be free.

Started skipping classes

just to be sane for a little while

trying not to have a panic attack in front of my classmates.

People already thought there was something wrong with me.

I couldn't change it anyhow.

But I could try to keep myself sane.

Though it didn't work more than half the time,

and I started drinking in school.

Trying to escape the reality of everything that was going on.

Stumbling through my days just to get home and run away into the neighborhoods.

I tried to find ways to cope with the pain,

but it only made it worse.

Eventually it just became a stain.

On the glass piece of my broken heart.

Dear Life,

I could tell you for hours,

the way I had to "live",

the way you made me.

But I did not learn to live.

Nor did you teach me a sinlge thing.

I learned how to survive,

on my own.

I taught myself,

that the way to live life,

was called surviving.

And I will remember it forever,

the way I designed it,

in the words embedded on my skin.