Years pass by and I'm 13. Through those 5 years I had seen my dad briefly, and that's when my life turned around. I had no one to guide me, I had freedom to the point, I had no place to call home. The streets where my home, the woods were my home, my neighbors house was my home.
Yes, I had an actual home, but I hated it there. I felt as if everything was my fault. Everyone looked so happy and it got to the point where I couldn't even speak. There was just darkness surrounding me and I couldn't take much longer. So, I started going to this park people would call " 420 park". A bunch of -what us teenagers would call nowadays: stoners, addicts, druggies would hang up there. I thought these people were my friends. They were not. At the age of 13 I did my first line of coke, I had my first cigarette, my first hit of weed, my first experience of hallucinogens. I did it all. All because it was my escape. These people made me feel like they were home, they were my family, they impacted me in such a negative way.
YOU ARE READING
Oblivious
SpiritualEver been hurt, lied to, or so lost you couldn't explain yourself and the emotion that you had created?
