It's okay.

I'm independent.

   I was 17 years old, I lived in Sacramento, CA. I was a junior in high school who was skipping more of his classes than attended. I did this to give myself some time to breath. I had plenty of problems at home and it was just my way of coping. I would always get in arguments with my parents, usual stuff that 17 year olds go through. The only difference was I have a mother who was addicted to pills and a father who was usually absent because he works construction with an insane schedule. My mother wasn't given an easy life, she has been struggling with so many problems from being diabetic to living through a coma more than once. I also have a younger brother who has cerebral palsy and a younger sister. Don't get me wrong, things were not always bad but when they were they would turn ugly. I've been through moments with my parents but nothing really prepared me for this. I was in my room and my dad barely gets home from work stressed and angry to see trash not taken out and I can say I got a little defensive when he was shouting "Fucking lazy ass, get up and do something!". I stood up and was like "Ok calm the fuck down." and things took a bad turn when he went up to me and said "What? You think i'm scared of you? Do something faggot.". Let's just say I did something and then I was on a bus to San Francisco, CA. I moved in with an aunt and uncle of mine and my two cousins, they accepted me with open arms and here I am in the big city.
    I ended up getting a job at a coffee shop and perusing school and basically began my life as an independent at 17 years old. I began to meet people at work, then people at school. I even met a good friend of mine in the bus. It was nice and just perfect for me to just breath and be myself. I was pretty much happy and felt a huge relief being independent. I just had one problem. I wasn't really being myself yet.