Young Dreamer

^Christian Le'anne Carson^

Inhale. As I lay back in my bed in nothing but my bra and panties I laughed at nothing in particular as the kush filled my lungs. I held the smoke in for as long as I could before blowing out a cloud of smoke in the shape of a perfect O. I smiled at my work. That's probably the only thing that I could perfectly do in this lifetime. Smoke weed. Hell, that's all I do.

I smoke weed to fill all the blanks in life. Weed and music are the only things that make me feel good. It does to me what no one person could ever do which is make me happy. The only time a genuine smile will form on my lips is when I have some loud in my system or a song on my lips. I smoke like breakfast, lunch, and dinner and then some. Before you judge me tho, take a walk in my shoes.

Growing up, I was one of the most vibrant and happy kids you could ever wish to lay your eyes on. I reside in Compton, but I'm originally from New York. New York is where my heart is. That's where my family and white picket fence is. Moving to Compton is the single biggest mistake that my parents made as my guardians.

[F L A S H B A C K]

"Daddy, why is there a 'SOLD' sign in our front yard?" I question as I made my way in the house from school

"We're moving, dear," my mother came behind me and stroked my brown locks

"Moving houses?"

"No, baby girl, moving states. We're moving to Los Angelas, sweetie. In California."

I swear my heart shattered as soon as the words fell from his lips

"WHAT?!" I shriek.

"Now calm down, Christian. Your father got an offer for a better job out there. Our lives will be better when we move, sweetie."

"Better for who? You and dad?" I mumble what I thought was barely audible. That was until I felt the back of my mother's hand collide with the side of my face.

My mouth was always the one thing that got me in trouble on a daily basis.

"Listen, little girl, your 10 years old and you have everything that girls your age would dream for. Your father and I slave away every single day to make sure you got what you need. Moving to California is a golden oprotunity right at our fingertips and I'll be damned if we let it slip away because of your ungrateful ass. Now march your little ass up those stairs and pack whatever's left in your room. We leave tonight." She spat with venom dripping from every word.

I stomped my way up the stairs, angrily, one by one to make sure I pissed her off even more. When I entered my room I could just drop to my knees and bawl. My entire room was empty with the exception if my naked bed and the clothes and toys in my closet. I angrily shoved every shirt, pair of pants, and toy into a medium sized brown box labled 'Christian's Room' in my mother's neat handwriting. I sighed while shaking my head, hoping to shake away the tears threatening to fall. I'm only 10 years old and I feel like I'm about to restart my entire life.

Once I finished I reported to my mother. Before going to the airport, we stopped at a McDonald's to get something to eat to hold us over until the plane ride was over. Once we retrived our orders and checked the bags, off to New York International we were.

After we went through the security and all that, we were seated in our first class seats. Throughout the entire plane ride, I slept. I was awakened by my mother slightly shaking me telling me to wake up and that we were here. I guess this is the start of my brand new life.

[F L A S H B A C K O V E R]

Things were good for us in California for the maximum of 6 months. After the 6 months my father had lost his job and we couldn't keep up with the payments, so we were faced to downgrade. From Beverly Hills to Compton. Now the part of Compton we lived in wasn't that bad. My mother had to start working two jobs, bringing home the max of 700$ monthly. Now, given what we were used to, 700 dollars was barely enough to make it by, but something was better than nothing so we managed to make it by for a period of time.

I guess the stress was too much for my parents to bear, because one day they just left and stopped being my parents. Of course it didn't happen all at one time, but slowly but surely both my mother and my father picked up a drug habit. It started with cigarettes but once those weren't strong enough, it escalated to marajuiana, then prescription pills, next it was crack cocaine, and finally they were both heroine addicts.

Now what do you say to a 10 year old with heroine addict parents? Exactly. Both my parents came from a rough background, so they were my only family.

It came down to the point where my parents would sell anything to get their fix. Eventually our house in Compton was gone, too. Two heroine addicts out on the street trying to get a fix while trying to raise a kid? It wasn't working. Eventually the teachers at school started to notice how I looked and how hungry I was. Eventually, they came to the conclusion thatt something wasn't right at home. So they called the Child Protective Services on my parents and just like that, I was taken away. Did they care? Hell no. I was one less responsibility for them. One less mouth to feed. Wasn't like they were feeding me anyway.

As soon as I touched down at the Compton FosterCare Facility, things started to look up for me. The food wasn't the best, but atleast I was eating. The shower water wasn't always hot or even warm, but atleast I got to shower. It wasn't the newest or cleanest place, but aleast I had a place to lay my head at night. My clothes and shoes weren't the nicest and sometimes they even came with holes and didn't fit, but atleast I had them. Right?

That's what I had to constantly remind myself every night I spent there. Life was alright until I turned 13 and I developed. My breast grew in pretty nicely, my waist slimmed down some, and my ass grew. Then that's when the abuse started.

I was getting raped every night at 1:30 exactly by the night manager of the Fostercare. Of course I wasn't the only little girl being raped. There were two others. Every night we had Joseph come and touch us inapproapriatley and thrust himself inside of us. Now, I can't speak for the other girls, but technically I'm still a virgin. Joseph wasn't the biggest below the belt, so he never broke my hymen. In other words, he wasn't long enough to pop my cherry. I thank God for that everyday, but that doesn't stop the emotional pain and scaring. I know what your thinking, why didn't somebody say something. The other two girls told. Nobody believed them. Joseph was confronted and that only made him come harder. The abuse lasted longer and the blows were stronger. Joseph never busted inside of us, always on us. Like on our stomachs and backs, and sometimes on our asses, but not that night. That night he busted several times all over our faces and all in our hair. And to the two girls that told? In the mouth, for talking too much, he said.

That was the night time abuse. The day time abuse was different. Each child was assigned a chore for a duration of two weeks. Herriatta was our day time manager, and if your chore wasn't done up to her expectation, be prepared. Herriatta was horrible and bitter. Most of all she hated kids. Let your chore not be done correctly. She would stick our heads in toilets and spit in our food. She wouldn't force us to eat either. You don't eat, you starve. Breakfast wasn't always guarenteed.

I lived in the fostercare until I was 18. Then I was old enough to go and get it for myself, so that's exactly what I did. I went out and got it. I applied for jobs everywhere, and by the grace of God, I got two call backs. One from Footlocker, and another from Forever 21, both in the mall. I worked hard for everything I have now. 18 years old and doing it. That Audi outside, I worked my ass off for it. The Jays in my closet, and the clothes on the hangers. I worked hard for it. And to top it all off, I still maintain 4.0.

Given my background, if in my situation, most kids would loathe their parents, but I don't. I love my mother and father with everything that beats in me. The thought of my parents is the exact reason I'm still in school today. If they were well and sober, they'd want me in school.

When I sit back and think, I sometimes think I caused this all. My parents being addicted to herione, the rape and abuse. Sometimes I think that I'm to blame for it all. If I didn't complain so much about the move to Los Angelas, mabey my parents wouldn't have stressed so much. Mabey if I didn't try to look pretty and decent like the other girls Joseph wouldn't have did the horrible things he did, because little did he know, while he was trying to bust a quick nut, he was ruining my future.

Because of all the physical and emotional hurt that Joseph caused me, I don't ever think I could love anybody. I can't love if I'm not a 100 percent person. All that other half bullshit is false. It takes two 100 percent people to be in a relationship and love eachother and be able to look past the flaws and insecurities. I'm barely a 70 percent person. I'm just a young dreamer stuck in the heart of a cold world with a fistful of dreams.

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