I spent three years with you now you will spend an eternity in the sky. You were my first boyfriend and will now be my first funeral. It seems like yesterday that we were children hiding in my father's garden now we're all grown up and you have passed on.

It's hard for me to imagine that someone I once held the hand of is now lying lifeless in a morgue somewhere until you can be burried or cremated. I know that we went our separate ways years ago and I did not speak to you after being in a bitter state but I wished you the best in life.

But as of now I hope you are doing well in the afterlife and reuniting with those you lost and find comfort there.

R.IP Nehemiah, I'm sorry the way things ended between us.

In the midst of the pink clowds above, two cowboys appeared. One came down from his horse and cocked his gun and the other came towards me in great force. I couldn't scream, I couldn't run as the cowboy's hand reached out and grabbed me, only catching sight of his brown leather glove.

They took me to another place and dropped me in the river, leaving me wet and cold, stranded on the rocks to shiver. Alongside me a dead woman lay facedown. Her green dress torn from bottom up, black hair scattered amongst the water, her skin was blue and gray. Presumably she had drown as the waves carried her away.

Looking ahead, the Native Americans walked the trail. The tribe followed behind their cloaked chief as he sang and pounded the drum. Their voices sang with hope but their faces were so glum. I watched as they trotted and slipped on the remaining snow. They were in a rush. To where? I do not know.

To the left of me the dead woman stood. She was a corpse! Her face rotten and filled with rage, her fist clenched and ready to charge like a bull released from a cage. Her eyes were black, teeth yellow,  her hair was wet and stuck to her jaw. She raised her hand and struck me, that was the last I ever saw.

I'm 7 years old, I'm alone on the playground as kids call me Dora because of my olive skin and short hair. Teachers see but they don't care. I go home, my father is high and beats me to a pulp physically and mentally. It's my fault because I act up and everything he does is father like and gently.

I break down and hardly speak. When I did I was told that I was stupid and to nshut up. I would sit in my dark room in tears, listening to the laughter of my siblings and peers. Dreading the sound of his footsteps that were so loud, they shook the chandelier.

I'm 13 years old, my mental health goes down hill. I'm angry, violent, in need for attention, making up lies, pulling stunts and finding myself in detention. I'm a teenager now and too hormonal so I'm always getting the belt. I speak to counselors and CPS. But my Father "loves me". I receive no help. I'm just a troubled child and a mess.

I'm 16 years old. My parents divorce. Life gets better then takes a turn for the worst. My dog passes away at the age of seven. Her being my only support, wishing I could join her in heaven. No one understands the loss I feel or the anger I display. I endure the silence of my room, the only thing I have left of her is her collar and the memories she gave me of when I was smaller.

I'm 17 years old. My boyfriend of 3 years drops me out of the blue, I find another guy who's new to replace the hurt. It went from laughter to walking on eggshells. He would make accusations and jump to conclusions, leaving me in a state of confusion. I'm trapped and made me question myself. I couldn't leave, the attention I was receiving was my self help.

Months later he leaves and sets me free. I celebrate, yet feel alone because love is what I need. I'm online sending naked photos to men I'll never meet, thinking they'll fall in love and run away with me. This is how I dealt isolation and misery.

I'm 18 years old, last year of high school. My "best friend" turns on me like a snake. The school leaves me stranded in her constriction. I'm a wreck to the point where I want to end it all in my bathtub. I stop myself, realizing that this was not the answer. I continue my days in despair. Knowing it was just me against a world that couldn't care.

I'm 19 years old and I say that I had enough and seek therapy. It helps with my emotions but not my home life. Waiting for life to pick up, I continue with strife.

I'm 21 and we all get evicted from where we live and have to stay with my grandparents. Who would not hesitate to shank my mom with a shiv if they could, but this is how I had to accept life in a toxic environment and not as I should.

That same year I get to move out and be on my own. In an apartment in the city most known. I meet a man one afternoon in late June and before you know it I'm pregnant and we're over the moon.

Six months pass and the lease is up. And he has no interest in renting a place together like I'm a waste of space. I move into a shelter not realizing the choice I made was a huge mistake.

The house mom nags and nags, treating me like I'm five. I spent hours and hours waiting for my boyfriend to arrive. But she prevented me from seeing him, I was again alone. Third trimester pregnancy and I'm doing back breaking chores under her force. I'm carrying heavy objects and a baby inside me like a horse, and I'm in pain.

I wanted to move but had nowhere to go, my boyfriend got into drugs and he's absent. I have no comfort from anyone because they don't understand, I'm suffering but doing what I can.

A monster of a girl moves in. She steals and hurts my infant son. No one believes me and thinks I'm wrong doing. I'm there for most of the year and her only three or four, I'm the bad guy and they like her more. I'm being framed for things I did not do, she and the house mom were the perfect two. We fight and I get kicked out!

Instead of being devastated, I leave and life took me to a better route. Trauma stays the outcome pays off.

I'm now 23 years old. I live in a beautiful apartment that I worked hard to get. My son is now one, the year came and went. Life has been peaceful and we're happy as ever. At night, I look at the sky and remember that every single traumatic fight, mental scar and slaps to the face. Lead me to where I am today. That I'm not a failure or a disgrace. Life has trails and is not a speed race.

I don't get haunted by ghost. I get haunted by memories of people who are still alive, just not around anymore.

Life went from college and working, traveling with no rest. This all changed with a pregnancy test.

Long naps, mood swings and craving unhealthy snacks. To sleepless nights, kicks in the ribs, heartburn that made my chest flare. I knew you would have a lot of hair.

On April 6th, you were born. After 3 days of labour, it was hell and I was torn. 8 lbs 1 oz with black hair and blue eyes, with the loudest cry.

Life then went from a quite room to one full of cries at night. Rocking you in the cradle swing, listening to nursery rhymes and to you I'd sing.

Endless amounts of diapers filling the trash, freaking out over a mild rash. Tummy time on the play mat, crawling on the floor, now preventing you from running out the door.

Now I'm stepping on toys, buying bigger clothing sizes in toddler boys. Spending extra money I could of saved, making me want to crawl into a cave.

But I cherish every day. Through all the screaming, teething, random bites, when putting you into clothing is a fight.

Even when you make me sleep half way off the bed, repeat words that I shouldn't of said. The cuddles during nap time, watching Sesame Street, tickling your chubby feet.

In 4 days, it will be your birthday! Hooray! With all the stress of birthday plans, I'm so happy for my little man.

Watching you grow up is all your mom could ask for. Happy early birthday my little explorer.

Narcissistic is not just a toxic relationship with your boyfriend of one year. It can be a parent, a friend, a cousin or someone you love, dear.

  It's when they give up their own responsibilities to depend on you for money, childcare or a ride in the car. If you confront them. Your luck won't go very far.

  You'll belittle you over one little mistake like not washing a dish or leaving a crumb on the table. Restrict you from friends, lovers, family because they're you're parent, partner or whatever it is the label.

   You'll be made to feel unworthy and treated like trash. Take pride in authority as you become their slave. Every peer will be brought up to hate you and you'll be the highlight to bash.  

  You'll be trapped, items will be stolen from you, they'll hurt your children, you will be framed and blamed for what you didn't do. Call the police, tell a friend or relative. But no one will believe it because they've manipulated everyone but you!

  A pretty face or kind demeanor is the who they appear. Your peers will becoming sheep to their lies with words such as " I'm a person of God" and many hoaxed stories to tell. Cross them, your life will become the fifth layer of hell.

  When confronted they fabricate it with lies such as " I do this for you" when you get no benefit from the deed. You can argue with them all day, but refuse to take heed.

  They will monitor your activities, making you feel like a juvenile. "You can't use this no longer" and send you miles away to do so. You'll never be good enough for their home. Wait for an escape for quite a while.

  You can bend over backwards for this said person and nothing will be good enough. Clean their home! Give them money, drive them to work, love them with soul. Their hatred for you never grow old.

  You are nothing but an object. You are free ***, an ATM, a chance to get drunk or high, or a tax return. You'll be nothing but inheritance or sympathy when or if you die.

    When you finally escape this slavery. You will have scars, passing the neighborhood where it happened, hearing their name in a conversation, or coming across something they gave you long ago. If anything, celebrate your bravery!

  You escaped such a harsh time, you stood up for yourself when it cost everything. You are living life without the person you thought you'd die without. You are a warrior without a doubt.

Life was a drug. I'm smoking what could of been. Inhaling the thought of freedom and where I should be. Embracing the sadness of withdrawing and going back to where I started.