About the admins~

Dani~

Alright Everybody, dramatic backstory time.

Now come with me as we dive into the very sad life of the one you know as Dani.

Buckle up fellas this is gonna be a long one, and its gonna be pretty emotional and a little hard to write but I'm okay I promise. (Kinda).

So before this starts, I should probably say, I am not as cheerful as I might come across. I have depression and anxiety. Now I'm not telling this story to get sympathy or anything like that. If you pity me I will hate you. So don't. Please and thank you.

Another thing: this will not be in a specific order I'm sorry. Just try your best to keep up.

So, when I was 3 we moved to North Carolina from Bronx, New York. But before we got to where we are now, we have to go back to before I was born. No, I'm not giving y'all the 'birds and the bees' talk, you have parents and guardians for that. I have 2 sisters. Technically 1 of them is a half-sister but she's been with me my entire life, so she's a real sister to me, no matter the technicalities. 

For privacy reasons we'll change the names of my sisters to Kara, being the oldest one, and Jordan, being the second oldest one. I'm the youngest if you couldn't tell. So, we used to live with my mom and 'dad'. Now if you think we had the ideal father figure, think again you are absolutely wrong. He was a douchebag. Kara has asthma. My 'dad' would smoke in the house all the time, refusing to go outside to do it. I found out a couple of years ago that my 'dad' also raped Kara for 2 years. 

Yay. There's another reason to hate this guy until I die.

When Jordan was born, I was born two and a half years later. Basically what my 'dad' would do is, invite a bunch of his friends over, practically lock all three of us in a room together, and keep us there until out mom came home from work and forced his friends out finally freeing use from the room after God knows how many hours.

When Jordan and I were toddlers, barely able to do anything by ourselves, my 'dad' would refuse to take care of us or the house. Leaving everything for poor Kara to do, who was only at least 10 at the time.

My mom and 'dad' were always fighting. Mainly my mom yelling because he wasn't taking care of the family he supposedly wanted. 

Here's a funny tidbit: my mom chased him around with a machete once and also threw her favorite cast iron pan at him. It broke, which was sad because her grandfather gave it to her, but she got a new one. She also had to go to court and they basically told her she needed to calm down and made her go to anger management classes. In my opinion, even though I have no actual memory of any of these events, I think it was worth it.

But back to the story, eventually my mom decided she had enough and that it was time to leave.

So whenever he went out with his friends, she'd load up the car with a little bit of what we needed. After a few weeks or months, I don't remember, we finally escaped to North Carolina. There was only one problem though...

We were homeless

We lived on the streets for a while, before we moved into a home where it was run by people and they gave you money to go shopping for food every week and all that. My mom got a job, and when she had enough money, we moved into an apartment that shall forever be known as

The "C" House.

The only reason we ever called it that, is because Jordan and I never actually knew or cared to remember the name of the neighborhood.

Eventually, we moved 2 more times, and my mom remarried to my stepdad, whom we'll call Charlie Brown or CB. But hey guess what you thought that was all the siblings I had, think again because this man has three other kids and they're all girls. 

So if we are going off of technicalities, I have 1 blood sister, 1 half-sister, and 3 step-sisters whom I have never met before in my life.

If you're wondering where my depression and anxiety came from, it's mainly from learning all of these facts at once. Except for the anxiety, I've had that since I was in third grade. I also have trust issues. I always think people are going to leave me alone or abandon me in any other way, which causes me to cling to people who show a genuine interest in me (for some reason).

Welp, there it is. My dramatic backstory. Again, don't pity me. I don't want it nor do I need it. 

THANK YOU AND GOODBYEOVER TO YOU GENERAL EJ!