I was born in a women's corrections facility. My name is taung, the Vietnamese word for love. Coming from a mother who's stuck on death row, I think it's kind of ironic. In the strange facility I was raised in, they sent me off to a well off school, gave me my own apartment, and even started giving me allowance at age 13. Weird stuff I know. At least to me anyways. I think I should start at the beginning, tell the story of how I grew up.
The facility I live in is based in a small town called Frankinville. I grew up with inmates feeding me, teaching me how to stay on my feet, and the guards telling me stories about my mom. Even if we were in the same building, I was taken from her as soon as I was born. After I got into middle school, the head of the facility sent me to a private institution nearby.
The three years spent in middle school were daunting to say the least. I made friends with the wierdos in sixth grade, and as they started to deem me intimidating, I got in with the 'cool kids'. By highschool my friends were doping athletes, potheads, and Soundcloud rappers. Senior year, I met a kid and he and I became best friends. You'd think that all of this would make me something special wouldn't you? Not really.
I'm only allowed to be writing my story because the head of the corrections facility says I should write down my life, she thinks it'll be something worth my while. Really vague to be honest. So, I'm 18, have been living by myself next to the jail I was born in and raised, and here's where my life gets interesting.
