I’ve been where only 3% of my classmates have ever been–living in foster care.
At age eight, I went to court every Tuesday and Thursday.
I’ve watched my mom cry as two LAPD officers took my sister and me away.
I’ve visited my father in jail and there, I saw him cry for the first time.
My cousin Alberto had been a drug addict since he was 15. He lived with my family and me for as far back as I can remember. Alberto came from Mexico when he was 14 in hopes that the United States would bring him better opportunities. As soon as he arrived, he started to experiment with drugs. Marijuana, cocaine, and even meth. Throughout my childhood I saw him transform from a young boy into a scary adult. He had been a sweet boy with a chubby face, full of life. But after years of drug abuse his face held a sinister stare. It was long and skinny, and his eyes were sunken so deep that they looked black.
Brotherhood
17. My brother left for San Diego. I was all alone again, but I always know any minute or hour, when I’m feeling in pain, my brother finds a way to come see me!
16. I was trying to do well in school because I didn’t want to fuck up, my brother always listens to me!
15. I was ditching school because school wasn’t for me. I was hanging out with the homies up to nothing good, but my brother found me and took me home!
I am not easily labeled
I wonder why things are the way they are
I hear people mocking me
I see those who said they cared, turn away
I want to be a better version of me
