They say if you really want to do something you'll find a way, and if you don't you'll find an excuse. My name is Caleb and I don't believe in excuses. I'm 17 years old and currently reside in El Paso, Texas. Before I go on, I feel that I must disclose a brief history on my ancestry.

On my father's side I never learned much about my great grandparents, only my grandmother and grandfather. My grandmother was a white country lady who married a man of English, Scottish, and Irish descent. They had many children, one of them my father, having been raised in a large family he worked throughout high school and college to become a retail salesman. On my mother's side, my great grandfather was a mutt of an African American and Native American Blackfoot Indian. My great grandmother came to America from Reynosa Mexico, together they had many children, one being my Abulita. She married a military man of Spanish and French decent. They had 6 daughters and 2 sons in rural deep south Texas. My moms father made her and her sisters and brothers learn English, though to this day, much if not all of that side of my family only speaks spanish. My mother went to college to study in nursing. With family comes genetics, much of which I don't like, between the two sides, my tree suffers from major depression, bi polar disorder, dementia, schizophrenia, alcoholism, diabetes, and various cancers. Lovely I know.

After the birth of my brother, Jacob, my family moved to Tucson Arizona to escape the second thing family brings, feuds. To put it simply, the only words my father's mother ever spoke to my mother were, at least the child looks white. That aside, my mom pursued a position at a nursing home, and her husband to manage a hardware store. About a year and a half after my brother's birth, my parents had a baby, Rebecca, their pride and joy. Not even three years after that, I, Caleb Patrick was born. As I grew up I quickly learned that things were not going well for the tree at a crossroad, to our family of 5. Each person in my family did as they independently pleased, my dad worked long days, and my mom long nights. However, an event would soon rattle the zombified state of my family's living. That event being the death of my sister. She died of a sinusitis infection, you see me and her were both born with a defective sinus cavity as it didn’t properly drain common bacterial or viral infections like normal sinus cavities would, we just found out much to late. After a flu like run of symptoms ran its course, she quickly became ill again with unknown origin. After a visit to the doctor we had learned that infection spread its way into her brain, and had days to live. Mine wasn't so simple though – as terrible as that sounded. You see things went from bad to worse after her death. To this day I'm not sure how it affected my brother, he always kept things of that nature to himself, and you could say I should have shown a little more emotion when she did pass, though it was not my fault, before I go on, after about a couple of years of mourning, my mother decided she was going to change up her life. She was a strong women who had to be dedicated to something and go above and beyond in life, so when her angel passed, she no longer had that vice and her last bit of humanity died when Rebecca did. So she then decided to join the Army. Her first duty station was in Hawai'i. Back to my lack of emotion, when I was in my early childhood, I suffered from strep throat, that unknowing to anyone at that time caused some significant damage as it spread to my impaired sinus cavity. After it ran its course it left dead tissue that from that day on, as it was unable to come out, slowly and continually built up pressure in my sinus cavity causing migraines that lasted months. Being so young I thought it was normal and thus simply coped and never complained, building up my extreme tolerance to pain and emotion. It was only till the age of 8 that I knew something was truly wrong. Fearing for the worst my parents took me to get my head scanned and sure enough found out about the dead tissue and pressure build up. At the cost of my tonsils and adenoids, it was removed and my sinus cavity drained. To this day I can't remember a day where I could breathe clearly or not feel an ache in my ear, or pain in my head. Not long after that my mother volunteered to go to Iraq. To this day I believe to get killed in action though ill never know for sure. My dad had us move to his hometown after that, San Marcos Texas where he completely cut himself from everything and everyone. My brother was old enough to do as he pleased, and I started to fall into a dark place, you see entering the 4th grade in a new place, my 3rd school I thought I would try to do some good for myself. I was never the smart kid, or the athlete or anything. In kindergarden I received mostly failing grades to most peoples shock, my 1st and 2nd grade teachers didn't care and when I was in Hawai'i, well I won't go into to talk about that education. In San Marcos though my 4th grade teacher impacted my life for the better, to my surprise, she was a woman that I was comfortable opening up to and she worked with me tirelessly. It was then that I learned things like cursive, and tricks for math, and my passion for writing, as she made me start a journal. I was only there for less than half my 4th grade year though and thus had to move on to a different school for 5th grade, at this point I didn't care about a lot of things anymore, when my body turned 10 my young soul turned 30. When my Mother came back from the War she was of course even more estranged, her husband the same, it was then that he became an on and off dad if you for the next couple of years as we then had to move to my Mother's next duty station, that of fort bliss tx. I hated the fact that I had to move mid grade even worse this time around. I did absolutely nothing to better myself in the completion of 5th grade, and when I moved on to Middle School, I was completely introduced into the world of drugs, gangs, sex, and emptiness. Whether it was weed or pills, a new girl or old, and a friendly circle of troops or not, Middle school was an interesting part of my life, no one knew me and I could do as I pleased. I was able to master the facade of a good little boy with esteemed academics and a grand smile, covering the truth of a self harming, drug and alcohol addicted youth. I knew I was crazy then, but rather than suffer from my insanity I enjoyed every minute of it, much like the wretched family members that despised each other so much, one of my moms sisters, at the age of five, tried to kill my mom and the rest of her family, just for kicks of course. No one hardly knew the whereabouts of my abulita or any other mexican family member, and the whites were to drunk or to fat to care about anyone but there own. Is was in 7th grade that my father decided to make that on and off situation largely off. My brother was in High School and would only talk to me if he wanted money, which I appreciated as I preferred that than him stealing it from me like I knew him so well to do so. In 8th grade I learned the value of true friendship, and that they are the family you can choose, not the one you are born into. With a very special group of people, I was able to learn form my mistakes, I stopped cutting myself, and toned down my unpleasant dependancies, I learned how truly strong of a person I was, and that I had the power to do whatever I set my mind to. In moving on to High School, things simply got even more interesting. You'd think I guy like me would get a break, but destiny apparently has other plans. That just wasn't gonna cut it for me though, if I had learned anything in my enduring life it was that I was a person who was in the simplest of terms, capable. Capable of doing and handling anything. It was then that I decided, to further the facade of course, pursue many endeavors. I did it to ignore my lack of a family, and to ignore my insanity. The only thing I ever became emotionally attached to was a dog my Mother had given to me, her name was Abigail, and she was my pride and joy. Not long after I turned 15 and got myself into driving school to get my permit, and not long after turning 16 and passing my drivers test the next day, would I learn the true intentions of my Mother giving me a pet. Now I just think she did it to try and set me back somehow, of course I'll never know for sure, but one day I came home form school to find her gone. My mother had her euthanized. I knew that my mom didn't love me, but what I had forgotten was that she suffered more mentally than I had yet too. Nonetheless you could say that was the last straw for myself and family. I soon got a job, and at the age of 16 learned what it felt like to live paycheck to paycheck, and work nearly full time while going to school full time, while keep my perfect facade of excellence to the public. It was something that, unknown to me of course, tore me completely apart. I don't look down on myself, I'm just a kid who lives on his own, and makes the best of everything he's capable of, the only part I don't like is my mind that never lets me rest. You see the Caleb inside me never learned what good enough was, or got praised for anything, the A that would mean the world to some kids parents meant absolutely nothing to me, in my head I always knew I could do better. They say your biggest enemy is yourself and frankly I agree. I'll probably be never good enough for the Caleb inside, despite all of my admirable achievements and ability to consistently and efficiently overwork. In 17 years I can say that I'm a person who does whatever the hell I want too, I speak my mind, which happens to be an impenetrable fortress, and I only operate in the black and white. They say Rome wasn't build in a day, I say I was never assigned that job.