Golden California

I was born in 1995 right smack in the middle, almost a 90s kid but not. The youngest of four and the most spoiled. I have no recollection of my early years just three memories. A tea party magically set up in a dark room, first and last time it snowed, and after my parents divorced leaving the old house one last time.

I’ll try to give a back ground on why I became the way I became but first off I want to say; I’m not blaming anyone or anything except myself. We’re all given life’s cards to deal with and it’s up to the individual to do what they may with what they got.

I was the youngest my oldest sibling being a decade over then me. Steven was in charge of watching the younger three kids. Laila was a few years younger then him, and then Charlie and then me. And mom and dad divorced Mom took on six jobs one including a graveyard shift. So children were left to raise children. My oldest brother under all the pressure or maybe suppressed anger took it out on us younger ones especially me. Especially me in his bedroom at midnight. The first time it happened I was four years old. I was taken from the safety of my room and laid on the wooden floor. I woke up with the cold wood pressed against my bare back and my favorite Winnie the Pooh pillow held down on my face. I won’t go to deep into detail but I can tell you that’s a memory I’ll never be able to escape from. It was the first of many.

Now we grew up in church my mama was a strong believer a good woman. A rightfully so overwhelmed mother or four. She never knew and I was told not to bother her because she was already dealing with so much. I had to protect her, I sorta knew if I told her it would surely make her fall apart when she was barely holding on.

But holding secrets makes them grow and become infected until I was filled with so much shame and disgust I planned my own death at eight years old. At school I was labeled a bad child ( correction I was a psychotic brat) the doctors said I had ADD (correction it was PTSD). But no one dig further then that to see what was really wrong. And anytime I opened my mouth to try to say the truth, the truth would jump right back down my throat and rot in my gut.

I didn’t think I deserved any happiness or even life. I just wanted to die.

By the time I was 13 some 30 year old man had shared a glass pipe and crystal shards with me and I realized: this is how I deserved to die.