First of all, I’m not writing this to for you to feel sorry, and I’m not writing this because it’s the truth. I am writing this because I have to. Well here it goes.
At the age of two, I lost my innocence. My father was so jealous of me and my mother that he decided that he would take fate into his own hands. He believed that burning and molesting me was the best solution. He nearly killed me and for that he only served eight months in prison. My mother has suffered a lot of tribulations in her life. She was forced to defend and live on her own at the tender age of thirteen. When she was eighteen she got pregnant by my father and because she was living in the streets she had no money to abort. She also didn’t have any money to go the doctor and therefore she had rubella which was contracted to my brother. He was born with autism and soon to be mentally disabled. She was forced to give her child up to my godmother. Then three years later she had me.
We had a hard time living. She was stressed out all the times and resulted to smoking and drinking. Although she forced herself to quit smoking, her drinking was only suppressed. Every time she was get stress, she would beat me and bruise me up and then go in her room and close the door and drink. I didn’t understand why she did hit me but I knew that she was feeling depressed and hopeless at times. I would cry at night just hoping that someone would save me from the pain she was causing me and most importantly, that someone would save her before it was too late. At times, I tried to use my music and writing as a way to escape the pain but it never did work. I felt like I was always crying out for her.
(Fast forward.)
Well, in 2005 she got married and that crushed me because she was looking for happiness without realizing what was best for her and also me. She left me at my godmother’s house to get married and didn’t come back to get me. I couldn’t understand how she could find her happiness and leave. I was supposed to be the one that she love and I was mad her for not crying out for me. Instead, she cried out for the love of a man. I was devastated.
Well, life went on and I spent the remainder of my high school years with my godmother and her twelve adoptive children. I felt miserable and stressed out. One day, my godmother told me why my mother act the way she did. She explained to me that she was bipolar and suffered with paranoia. Things started to make sense.
(Fast forward again.)
Last week, I found out that my mother and her husband were through. She was struggling to support herself and began to get sicker. I found out that she has hypertension and she is so stressed that her hair is falling out. She takes so many pills and if she doesn’t keep her stress levels down she can have a stroke or worse. So for my birthday, I sacrificed my time and spent the day with her. I made her so happy and I can tell that this is what she was crying for all along. She needs me to take care of her and to make that step to get her better. I swallowed my pride and forgave her for what she had done to me in the past and cherished every moment that I had with her that weekend. So, who am I crying out to? I’m crying out to my mother and hoping that maybe all that I contributed to satisfy her needs, she will give back to me the love that I deserve. I will just end this quote from my song entitled “Burned by the fire”, it states: “some say that all that you do will pay off, and hurt by the fire they say you will burn, as I close my eyes and I dream, I feel myself crying out for—she.”

please pick me, but if you don’t just here my story.