What am I to the world? Nothing but a torn down knock, juvenile delinquent, slut, gang banger, hooligan. I’m not sure. At seventeen I’ve become all of the above. I’m afraid I will turn out like my daddy, torn down, gang banger, in prison doing twenty-eight years for a crime he should have never committed.
I love my dad but now all I see is a coward. Why did you have to use a gun? I’m angry that you would give up raising me for a color, but it’s a family too. No, it’s father-brother-son-daughter-mother-sister-snatcher, or will I end up like my momma?
Dearest Lord, help her. Will I be like her? Running from my babies, accusing my children of ruining everything, using my body as a gateway to luxury, as her babies scream, “look at us, Mommy!” But she can’t hear us.
Nothing but a burden. How do you raise a teenager when you are one yourself? You don’t. That’s why I’m here today.
I don’t want to end up like my mommy and daddy but the path I’m heading down doesn’t look too bright at this point. I’m fighting for my life. Crystal meth, sex, money. How I’m living.
This isn’t me. I’m never so angry but I’m hurt and I’m scared and praying every day for a way out. I don’t want to let myself down so I’m gonna fight for a better life, rise above all the negativity, live my own life. Never again will I become a product of my environment. It’s time to win and live.