In Hopes

I write this to the kids who believe there's no hope in hell for them, for the kids who think their lives have no chance of becoming something positive. I come from your position, this is my story to tell you how i bounced back, how i recovered, how i have baggage but how i manage to live day by day in somewhat of a productive and positive world. I come form the typical broken home, the house of a single parent who was forced to spend more time at work then with her own children. I had an older brother who managed to make it out alive by never spending time at home, never coming to terms with the reality he was forced to be consumed in. I lived in houses who's power would be cut off because of unpaid bills, listening to stories from my mother about how every blackout was an adventure, and make-shift plans in efforts to try and keep ourselves warm. Some ask me where i consider home, but to me, the saying home is where the heart is is more true then any other saying. I've lived in a numerous amount of different houses, i don't blame my mother, she just tried to find houses with rent cheap enough so the next time i opened the fridge there might be a thing or two to eat because some might know the feeling of opening the fridge to a pitcher of tap water, and condiments to the food we didnt own. I've been homeless at one point in my life when my mom decided the friend of hers we were staying was filling my head with lies... which in retrospect may be true... regardless it ended in me telling my own mother to her face that she was a slut... thats something that sticks to you until you die, i live with that scar and ill never forget it. I remember being in grade 8, before one can really put thoughts together for himself, watching his mother fall out of bathroom doors with her pants around her ankles as drunk as could be.... and finding the only soulus in a kitchen knife while sitting in the bathtub thinking to myself... at least this way the mess might be easier to clean... ive been there, ive felt those feelings. Fuck the idea of being adolescent and having raging hormones...when your a child you dont feel those intense feelings, everything your doing is real without any extra pressure on top of it... it wasnt social problems, it wasn't things that happened at school... it was the hopelessness i seemed to find an answer to in believing life might be easier if i wasnt around. Although, maybe with the grace of god i put the knife down, got out of the tub and went upstairs to the old type-writer my mother had bought for me at a garage sale weeks before and started to write... ive been writing ever since, maybe this is my therapy... who knows. The only emotion i fight with today is what the meaning of love is... and if ill ever find it... which some may say is significantly more productive thought then then ones i had when i was child. My only advice is that you need to be able to rely on yourself when times get tough, i know family cant always be there, and friends never seem to understand, thats when time to reflect and time to disregard and move on seems crucial. I consider myself independent because i know when times get tough, i have myself... and that has always seemed to be enough for me... i have problems keeping friends around because of it... but then again... maybe thats because of poor decisions on my part. Now, im a university student who has yet to figure out any real direction in life, although i know what im doing now is productive and i live life day by day with very few regrets... and i know, maybe tomorrow ill realize where im supposed to be headed... and head there.