I am eighteen. My mother died of a stroke in front of me at twelve. Before that she was fately sick and I felt by myself. My father and I never had a close relationship, and me and my siblings were constantly at each others throats. I was teased about my clothes and hair all my life. I slowely began to hate the people I loved. I was broken and no one knew how to fix me. So I stayed like that for a while. That was before I moved to Newyork and it changed me for the better. I learned how to love again. I fell for some one I couldn't have and I fell into another depression. Today I'm here saying you will find a way. And what better way to do it than on my journey.