My Life

I am left home to take dinner out of the oven and feed to my younger sisters. This is an actual conversation between my mom and I: Mom: "Was the pork done?" Me: "Hopefully" Mom: Wasn't pink was it? Or bloody on the bone? Did it taste good?" Me: "It was as pink as the day they cut open the pig, the bone was seeping marrow and it tasted like ass. Thanks mom." This is a collection of the struggles and adventures I face today. My name is Jess. I'm turning 18 years old in october, I've been fighting a diagnosis of mental illnesses, detailed within my entries. I have lost, loved and lived. And now, its my turn to share my stories of survival, wit, and passion. Hope you guys enjoy :)