You know that feeling you get on the first day of summer when you finish school. That feeling you get when someone makes you laugh until you cry. Or the feeling on your birthday when you're surrounded by people that love you and you get lots of presents. How about the feeling you get when you're giving your mum and dad a good night hug and good night kiss? Yeah, me neither. Before I could even walk and talk I was being shipped from house to house, being taken care of different foster parents in their own homes. I could tell you all the stories I had with my own parents and how they raised me to be a good kid. Or how my dad taught me how to ride a bike. Or how my mum was teaching me how to cook, and sow, and do the laundry. How that all ended with an accident. How I cried and cried. But it'd all be a lie. I reckon you're probably pitying me. Or thinking I'm just like a thousand other orphan kids out there with another sob story. You can think that. It's your opinion after all. But I'm going to tell my story, my way, of how I saw things. It all started out five years ago on May 4, 2007.