I’ve never really been good at keeping a journal, even through early childhood, although some would still consider my current age a child. Most don’t think it, but I’m very mature for my age but hey wouldn’t everyone say that about themselves. I have been through a lot to only be fifteen. Things people wouldn’t even fathom a person like myself to have gone through. These “things” though, they seem to have had a big affect on my life. I never really had what one would call a “childhood”. My mother was only twenty when she had me almost a child herself I suppose. The fact is that I know she wasn’t ready. I don’t remember being a baby of course but I do in fact remember kindergarten. I was five graduating into the first grade. My mom wasn’t there, my grandmother took care of me and although my mom was around she jut didn’t seem to care like the mothers my classmates had. Then when I turned six my mom took me and we moved away from the only person I thought truly cared. Biggest mistake she ever made. I was content though for the first few months at least. It didn’t last long, because I soon discovered the forty year old male neighbor had certain “plans” rolled out for me when he knew I was alone. My father was even farther away than my grandmother, my parents had spilt soon after I was born and were never married. Soon after I went through the most pain id ever felt is when I really realized my mom didn’t care. I figured it out because she didn’t notice the change in my behavior. Instead of a bouncy excited child, I was now the six year old who couldn’t sit properly and understood that there truly was evil in this world. I grew quieter, lost friends, and soon didn’t talk to anyone at school, but at home after a week of being quiet and her not noticing. I started to put on a mask. A happy mask for my mother, but underneath that mask was a horrified little girl. A little girl who becoming to hate the person who brought her into this world. A few more months there and we had to move because my mom made poor decisions on who she chose to let into her life or her bed shall I say. It didn’t really matter me I had no friends anyway. I focused on school and didn’t care what others thought. I was an honor roll student. By the time I was eight I had been to six different schools. After the last man my mom decided to leave we moved in with my grandmother. She took me so willingly and cared for me so much better than my own mom did. The first time I was injured I fell off the monkey bars. My grandma came as got me from school and took me to get stitches above my eye. My mom never showed, when she saw me when I got home she didn’t even ask what had happened. Before I turned nine she had my brother and a year later my sister as well. We were kicked out of my grandmas house for reasons I don’t know. When we were pulling out of her driveway as her and her husband were putting out stuff outside. My mom turned to me and said. “Look, look that is your stuff too”. She didn’t comfort me or tell me why my grandma was doing this. She just shoved it in my face that I was stuck with her. We moved in with one of my mothers friends and her two children one of which was older both girls. I didn’t get close to them. Didn’t want to. By fourth grade I had one person I thought I could call a friend. I was still an honor student and hadn’t told anyone anyone about my rape. By sixth grade I was graduating into high school and found out that my so called friend was a two timing fake. I was overweight for my age and was coming into a world of hurt in highschool. We were kicked out of my moms friends house and we found a little trailer and I got to change schools. Seventh grade blew by and eighth grade I had people to talk to but no true friends. My mom had started abusing me when we lived with my grandma. She had convinced me to right down everything mom did to me and she turned it in to DHR. I had to tell them I lied in fear of being sent off with a stranger. She stopped for a little while but now that we were alone in out own home it started again. I attempted to runaway with my neighbor, a girl my age who I thought was my friend and had some similarities with me. Turns out she was a liar and also fake. She chickened out so I came home crying and told my mom what I had tired to do. She said and I quote. “There’s the door it’s open if you want to leave.” Ninth grade I attempted two more times almost succeeding the third. I outran cop for she had called them and they brought dogs. I was hiding in a field a few minutes away from my house. I say almost succeeded because as soon as I heard my grandmothers voice saying it was all gonna be alright I came straight into her arms. They restrained me and put me in the back of a cruiser. They asked me why I did it in front of my mom I simply nodded towards her and said she hits me. She screamed that I was lying and I broke into tears. My grandma wrapped me in her arms once again and said it was alright. My siblings and I stayed with my grandma for a few weeks but soon were back in my mothers possession. Ninth grade I joined the drumline and visited my dad quite a lot. Any childhood I had ended when my brother was born. At eight years old I was learning to be a mother. Taking care of my siblings, cleaning, babysitting. She said se never had time to sit, she was always working. He does have time though to bond with them, to play with them and enjoy them why I sit in a shared room with my five year old sister. I am now a sophomore, and without my mom knowing, I have discover that I suffer from bipolar depression. I am still a bit overweight. I have absolutely no joy left even being over the rape I had come to enjoy band and have my eyes set on my career as a coroner. Now I don’t even like the drumline anymore. My mind is still set on my education but it’s getting harder my grade have dropped a little. I’m just a slave to a women who doesn’t care about her oldest but she is as happy as can be. She married to my step dad. A retired marine in a wheelchair. My siblings are as happy as can be. Sharing that bond that I don’t have with her. I still have y mask in tact though and three more years is all I have left to freedom. To begin able to leave all of this sadness behind. Unfortunately my grandma will stay here. I will come to visit her of course. Another downside is that my new found disorder will follow me for life. I haven’t told my mother of my sadness because even if she did care. She wouldn’t let me receive the help I need. I have taken to running to ease my mind, but extreme burst of this exercise I think is starting to harm me. I have lost my appetite and interests, but I feel if I don’t go running I’m gonna go insane instead.