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Prologue I could have felt the blood trickling from my forehead as an unknown figure picked me up off the floor. I would have protested, but I was too weak. No matter how hard I tried my arms and legs refused to move. Suddenly, gravity came into play as I felt the person drop me hard in what I think was a pile of garbage. I am garbage, just like the empty cans of beer and dirty syringes. No matter how many people insisted that I’m an independent, strong woman, I still believe that I’m the scum of the earth. I chose this lifestyle, yet I refused to accept the consequences that came along with it. My life had completely taken a wrong turn by the time I was fifteen. I can blame no one but myself for the path I chose. Sure, both of my cruel and abusive parent died in one of their drunken escapades, and my other extremely religious family members refused to accept me because I was “too sexy” for my age, but there were other jobs available for a girl at such a vulnerable age. I could have continued on in school, work part-time at, maybe a grocery store, save up my money until I got enough to buy a guitar, learn how to play it, and eventually become a guitar player like I always dreamed of. But no, that was way too much effort I had to put in, so I decided to become a stripper and a drug-dealer. While I did learn to play guitar, that was simply a hobby. The other two were my full-time jobs. It’s too bad that I was already too far in to get out, no matter how many negative things people told me about it. Later, they would prove me wrong, since all the terrible thing that they said would happen eventually did. Stalked? Check. Overdosed? Check. Raped? Check. Over thirty times, actually. Murdered? Well, we’ll just have to wait and f... ... middle of paper ... ...e sister die of starvation? Well, apparently when I’m high, I won’t stop until I get what I wanted. Therefore, I annoyed the shit out of her until she let me go over to Jon’s house for food. When I got there, you wouldn’t believe what I saw. Go ahead. Guess what it is. If you didn’t say Jon making out with another chick, then you’re dead wrong. I had no right to get jealous, since we weren’t even dating, but I did, and I wanted to rip her hair right off of her vagina. Unfortunately, I didn’t. All I did was sit and watch, waiting until he was done so I could get something to eat. Jon pulled away and looked at me then grabbed the food that was waiting for me out of the refrigerator. Then he proceeded to kiss her again. While you may think that I officially lost him, I didn’t. Just because he had a girlfriend, it didn’t mean that I couldn’t also be his girlfriend.
Trash gives the responder an understanding of how the people in third world countries live in extreme poverty, Without food, education, income or adequate shelter. This story is set in a dump-site located in Behala. “I was a trash boy since I was able to move without help and picking things up. That was what?- three years old, and I was sorting.” This illustrates how hard people in third world countries have to work just to obtain the supplies they need. This was written by one of the main
If I would have dropped out of school at the age of thirteen, I would not be working as an LPN or going to school right now. I am almost positive that I would either be working at a fast food restaurant or at a gas station. I would
The fifteen year old me choose my fate. I made one of the biggest decisions of my life in 2013. I decided to move 1,997.3 miles across the country to live with a man I barely knew. It sounds scary and dangerous but I was ready for it, I was ready to make my own decisions and choose what I wanted to do. One night I sat in my bed and I just analyzed my life and where I was going. I dropped all my friends, started hanging around the wrong people doing the wrong things and became distant as a person. I just wasn 't happy, I fell into a depression and life wasn 't the same anymore and I was just a freshman in high school. That is not how I wanted to live. The next morning I told my mom I wanted to move with my father in Louisiana.
It was uncomfortable, but I still managed to fall asleep. The truck came to a sudden halt, I woke up at the sudden change in movement. I was confused, and heard loud footsteps coming towards me. The man looked at me, angrily. I was very scared. He shouted, “Get out of the truck!”. In my panic I jumped out, and tried to run away, but he violently grabbed me and shouted for money. I was so terrified, I tried to get the money out of my pocket, but I couldn’t because he was shaking me from side to side shouting. I figured that he thought I was refusing to give the money, but the truth was, I simply couldn’t get at
her by telling her to go pick some flowers for her grandma. I said I *fooled* her because
When I was younger, I use to think you were considered bieng an adult at the the age of Eighteen. I guess the excitement of growing up fast all began with the idea of freedom. But in all its actually not that fun, bieng an "adult". My body became stress, deppresion, and anxiety. I had so many responsibilities at sixteen that I started to quesion my own future. How was I suppose to fulfill my dreams with so much dependency on my back? Bills, cleaning, cooking. Guess you can say I never really got to enjoy my childhood. I was to busy watching out for my family, and picking up my moms messes. I thought my mom was suppose to be the one taking care of me? I remember crying myself to sleep every night. Why couldnt I just live the life of a normal teenager. It was too much for me at that moment, but as time passed, I began building such skills I would need as an adult with out even realizing it. Who knew it would come to change my perspective on life, and make me who I am today. A responsible, independent, adult.
I did not always want to be a musician. Everybody always talks about choosing the job you love, but for me, those options are limited. I am the kind of person that does not attach to much; I do not get passionate, and the thought of doing some dull and uninteresting job until I reach my dying years horrifies me. For me, music is the only career worth grinding through the hardship to reach success, it was all that I could actually be passionate about and I realized this as a young teenager. Music was the one thing I wanted to do for the rest of my life. The big picture was that I would not be able to sit around and watch my life unfold. I knew I would have to work at music if I ever wanted to go anywhere, and I started immediately. I taught myself to play piano and practiced almost nonstop, but I knew this would not be enough either; I made the decision to drop all of
Yet more time I spent at school, working on homework and just seeing the reality in the society it made me drop those job dreams. It was too much studying in order to be a lawyer and prosecutor, too much studying and responsibility to be a doctor, not enough talent to be a singer or actress, and its too complicated to be a president in the future. So I really could not stick with one vocation that I wanted to become yet still looking for one hoping to have something one day. Just like any other kids I loved watching television shows and movies, loved playing instruments. As I got older I stopped playing instruments because it wasn’t challenging me anymore, but I got into listening music and watching movies. Up until 9th grade in school I didn’t focus on academic grade but I had to when I moved the school in United
Another cold and dark morning on the bus, all I could feel was dread as we got closer and closer to the gates. Despair suffocated me like a fish out of water. I didn't want to go back and face another day in hell. There was nowhere to go, school was the jail cell I lived in during the day, and at home I was an actress pretending I was okay. Every night I was beaten with his so called rumors and continuous distrust because of his own insecurity. Every single day my self-esteem sunk lower, being told to change constantly, not fitting in because I had to withdraw from those I connected to, just to try and appease the situation. After continuous days of going through the same old toils, I felt myself skating closer and closer to the edge. What
OUCH! My leg crippled with pain. I tried to shuffle my way to the window, but it was excruciating. As my senses kicked back in, I felt pains shooting up and down my body. Peering down at my hands I screamed. My hands were covered in cold, congealed blood.
Entering into my teenage years was a very difficult period in my life. Mom was busy with her life and trying to please her husband while I silently sat back feeling empty and lost. Not too long after my 11th birthday I became a victim of childhood sexual abuse. Looking back at that time in my life I can see what an easy target I was. I had such a deep seeded need to please other people and feel wanted. The only fortunate part of this trauma is that it did not last long.
I refused to attend the soirees with the other girls my age, and I ruined my fifteenth birthday coming-of-age party by refusing to be flirtatious and, in my opinion, appearing like a prized horse on display at the State Fair. These affairs had the intention of displaying the young girls to find a suitable husband. Until then I adored my mother, and she doted on me by making me pretty clothes for special occasions. It was my lack of acceptance of the norm in our culture that created our problems as mother and
I used the ladies ' room and went to check my hair and makeup in the mirror. I thought about Julia and how this whole night had unfolded. I was having the best time and so enjoying myself. I was enjoying the company of both men. I was a little freaked out over the fact that I was totally attracted to the both of them.
that's what she wanted, than it was fine, and within the next two months I
came to pick me up at my friend's house. When I got in the truck she told me