Why Fools Fall (Rewrite)

Autobiography

I definitely have abandonment issues. My dad left me at an early age, but it's okay because he was a piece of shit anyways. I don't remember much of him. I'm glad I don't remember much. All I do remember is how he used to abuse my mom and how it was starting to wear off on me. He lost the custody battle and decided that it was a good idea to pick me up from school and not give me back for months. I wouldn't have gone if I was older and knew better. I was only in Kindergarten. He moved me to a new city, a new school and a new home with no contact with my mother. It only got worse from there. He sparked my eating problems. He once threatened to kill me if I didn't eat all my food. Since I had that mentality for a long time while I lived with him, my body started getting accustomed to eating so much food. I gained weight as just a six year old kid. I had boobs as a six year old kid. I learned to hate myself. When finally decided he was done with me and decided to give me back, he made sure he went out with a bang. He reported to the police that my grandfather molested me, which isn't true. When he gave me back, my mom and I were homeless since the only place we had to stay was my grandparent's house. My mom and I's eating habits only got worse. I started getting bullied for my weight. I got bullied because I didn't have a dad. I got bullied because I was a half black kid in a predominantly white school. 

My mom married while I was just a kid before my brother was born. I missed the wedding because, you know, my dad had me. I liked my stepdad. He was cool. He cared a lot about me. He included me in the family even though I had no place. I met my older stepsister. She was amazing. I wanted her to be my best friend. I looked up to her. I learned around the age of seven that "step" didn't really mean anything. You were either family or you weren't. So I started calling him "dad". I started calling everyone by the name I would give anyone who was blood related. I felt complete. As I got older, he kept getting taken away and I never understood why. His "discipline" became to much to handle. His belt left bruises. I figured I deserved it because you wouldn't hit someone for no reason. I figured that forgetting to make my bed for the second time this week or fighting with my little brother was a good enough reason. Once more siblings were born into the family, I started getting ignored more. Everyone thought it was funny when my brother blew out my candles on my birthday and he got to open my presents. Everyone thought it was okay if my younger sister left her shoes on the playground and they got stolen, but once I did it, it was enough for a beat down. I learned around the age of 10 that the reason my stepdad kept getting taken away was because he was a sex offender. He was on parole and wasn't even supposed to be around us. He was in jail for more than half the year while growing up. To this day, I still don't fully understand what he did, but I know it's similar to what he did to me. He took away all the things I liked. It was easy for him to manipulate me into quitting the things I love and doing the things he did. I hate sports, and was forced to do them. He sparked my body dysmorphia. He told me I was too fat. He used to beat me if I missed a work out. Then, in Freshman year, it all got worse.

The physical and mental abuse  kept going, but then the sexual abuse started. I've been living in this house with someone like this. I know it's bad. It's the reason I started getting sick. I developed eating disorders. I developed horrible anxiety and depression. School was the one place I felt like I could be free for at least seven hours for five days a week. 

Not only did I promise to never fall in love, but I swore on everything that I would take this to my grave. This abuse would finally be over once I left for college in just two more years. I was closer and closer to suicide. I planned my death and my day. I wanted to say something. I needed help. I had to stay alive. I had to keep it to myself or he'd hurt me and I'd destroy my family. I had to. Just two more years, Andy, two more years.