When we are young, we don’t think about the things we do and how others take them into their consideration. Most memories are too difficult to remember, not that they are too far in the past, it just the pain and the suffering is too unbearable to remember.

As being born into an abusive life, I think differently about things. I think the least painful things are much more than they seem, like a simple belt whooping. Also, the way parents or others care. It’s not about love it’s about showing some TLC and having a shoulder for a scared one to lay on. From the youngest to the young and to the oldest to old we all need someone, but like me, we had no one only ourselves. We can only hope and think that there is future for us to grasp on too.

I would wake up at the crack of dawn wondering if the pain, the beatings will stop soon or will there be any relief. Getting dress would be a struggle; I would be criticized and hit for wearing something I had chosen to wear or if I had put something on wrong. Eating was also a challenge. Although we had something to eat, it wasn’t enough for my young fragile body. I was lacking so much nutrition. We had a very good education, which was a surprise to me, because I would expect nothing much more than I already had. I don’t remember practically much of my education, but I knew that I would go home knowing much more every day. Dinner was excellent to me, because mainly take a walk to McDonald’s and get something to eat; that little burger was a feast to me. After eating, came another difficulty, I would get poked, stabbed with a fork over and over again. This wasn’t my only worry, it was the lighter.

My hands were scorched with a cigarette lighter over and over times again for no apparent reason or cause. The intense heat would leave painful blisters on my tiny hand. The baths were the worst of them all. I just wanted to stay dirty; it was better than a being clean and it was safer to me. I would take baths with my little brother and when I did, he always made a mess in the tube; I was punished for his actions. My head would be forced under the soapy dirty water to drown me for the punishment. The only comfort I had was of one of my older sister. She always to care of me the most and made sure I had a reassuring bath. O, how I wish she was my mother back then.

Those where not the only times. Another one, which from time to time I wonder why it happen the way it did, was when my mother told me to watch after my brother. My brother is very sneaky when it comes to not being watched, had taken everything from the refrigerator. I watched and I tried to stop him with all my might, not for him to do what he was trying to accomplish. I stood thing what type of beating will happen this time. We where both whipped for hours leaving the most visible scars, but I never gave up hope, I knew God was with me. The day came, a miracle rose upon us on a bright sunny spring day. Our neighbor heard our screams and pleads and she called social services.

I think about how life it different from person to person. Life can be hard; it can be easily, but either way most people give up easily. But I didn’t, I keep on moving even through the worst of worst. I got adopted and it stopped. I still think to this day, Wow, I’m blessed!