Bad.

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Enfinity. That's my given name. They call me Finity, Fin, Trinity, Trin or Trill-Trin. 'Cause fuck government names right?

I live in a foster home because my "family", as I hear people call it, didn't give enough shits about me. My mom decided to rob and boost so some gang members shot her ass and my dad is, well, nobody knows. My aunts, uncles, cousins, etc., obviously don't care 'bout me either 'cause I'm still here with these dirty ass people.

But I don't need a family. I don't even need friends. You don't need them when you're living the life. When you have all the girls following you and wanting to be you. All the boys falling at your feet and buying you anything you want.

I have all the clothes. I have all the shoes. I have all the games. And even the brains. Yes, that's right, BRAINS. Just because I act the way I do doesn't mean I'm a complete screw-up.

I'm 17 and in 11th going to 12th grade. My best friends are Kamilla and Brandon. Kamilla is 17 and Brandon just turned 18. They're my only really friends 'cause we were all raised by the streets of Detroit, we go to the same school, same grade, and they live in the foster home with me. They're my Ride or Dies and I couldn't live without them.

There're four other kids in the foster home: two girls and two boys. Alisha and her side kick Jah'nae (both 15), Joshua (16), and Kendall (14)

Tomorrow's the day our foster home gets relocated to Compton, California. Where we start a new life, new school, and worst of all, I won't be on the top..

Or maybe I will..