Today was my last day of school for my sophomore year of high school. A lot of people hate school, don't think its cool or just really don't care. That's not the case for me, to conclude, school has helped my life tremendously.

I'm currently 16 years old, and three and a half years ago I was homeless and using drugs on the streets of my hometown of Dallas, Texas. These three years I have completely turned my life around; everything I got from the streets, I left there when my grandmother took me in. From then on I lived in Richmond, Maine and still do.

In my time of being homeless, I was also not attending school for my 6th, 7th, and 8th-grade year. Without that knowledge I would've learned, It set me back in my education. This should explain to you why I am truly proud of myself for making it this far in high school.

Next year I will be a junior, and taking a course to be a certified nurses assistant which means I will graduate with a guaranteed job, thanks to the amazing school I attend.

I felt I should document this moment In my Hellopoetry account, but also felt the need to publish it if anyone just wanted to read. Don't give up guys, we are so capable of anything we want to do.

A blur of sparklers at night during the summer and getting burned every time.
2. The blue and pink colors of the Texas sky that looks like a ****** painting
3. The almost unbearable warmth that made you want to sleep in the fridge
4. My stepdad would ask me what I wanted for dinner because mom wasn't home and neither of us knew where she was
5. I remember being horrified of the doctors and my stepdad blowing up gloves and drawing faces on them.
6. That everyone that it was weird I liked my marshmallows for smores almost chard
7. I thought my fashion sense was amazing, with my Hannah Montana shirt and glitter perfume.

A bug flies by and says hello,
purple and yellow, in my yard blow.
The tan on my skin proves the sun beats hard,
a warmth and breeze puts my mind at ease
So please be kind and leave me be.
A bee flies too close,
and puts a knot in my throat
so I run back to my cot
On a rusty old on a boat
The very next day
I had taken the same way
to my own personal sea bay
Where waves greet me sincerely.

Sadness is a rarity.

I could be your therapist or the stripper you take home.

Imagine if you were truly happy with yourself. How many things you could accomplish just knowing you're capable.
Imagine your own business that is outstandingly successful, and you are pursuing your passion.
Imagine if your home was how you wanted it to be, and imagine if your garden actually began to grow.
Imagine you have the cutest dog, and picture its billions of toys and puppy sweaters.
You can perceive anything you want, but it's about making it a reality.

It appears I have become content with my uniqueness. I am what some call weird, I love to make myself laugh by being ridiculous, I dance in store isles to make someone laugh, i say stupid things and I love all of these things about me. The people who call this weird must be such a bland and boring person. Live a little!

I have bee through what others seem to say tragedies, however, I could not image being so small minded as many are, without pure struggle of existence. The bad things are what toughens your skin and soul. It broadens your mind and ambitions. It moves you. There will be bad but, the good is ******* good.

I know others live worse than I, but in todays society I cant help but long for the picture perfect family ideal. A mom and a dad together, and a happy kid. It seems that all my parents and I are now are distant friends who can make a little time to visit every now and then.
And my grandparents do the best they can in which I am forever thankful for, but it does not fill the hole that is the ideal of togetherness, reliability and loyalty.

My hair needs to be a beautiful color, and my cheekbones need to sparkly.
My eyeshadow needs to be the best and my clothes as well.
My lipstick must be matte or some crazy color no one else would do.
Im not this desperate though, why must i follow?
Why do I?

It feels as if the vibration of the guitar strings that I strum balances out the shakiness of my hands,
What they say is true about the euphoria of music, the fuzzy feeling is better than ***.

When I remember unpleasant memories, I first feel disgust with only myself. Some things are so out there I was sure I never did such things, until they come in glimpses and flashes. I feel a nervous shake coming unto me because I feel as if I should mention some things, to perceive it differently now, than I did then.

I had recently gotten a flash back of a night when I was 12, staying in a drug house because me and my mother were homeless and frankly anywhere was better than nowhere. I woke up foggy from ****, and I was so intoxicated I didn’t realize that I woke up half naked, but fell asleep fully clothed. There was also a “smiley” as they call it where they heat up the metal of a lighter and brand yourself, on my lower elbow that Is still so notable to this day at 15 years old.

My mother and her boyfriend who was a whole other story of trauma, owned a bar. That would barely get food on our table somehow. We would often sleep there and open up the next day, and I would sleep in the office was was 3 feet by 4 feet with a mattress that was squished in to fit and a laptop with one movie I watched almost every day. I was self harming at this time, and I remember after something happened I would sit there watching that movie all day while ripping the nails out of the wall to cut myself.

A friend and I who would do drugs together were walking through the worst ghetto in that city, and a white car pulls over and asks us if we need a ride. I cannot believe we got in the car. They took us back to her house which was the drug house I mentioned earlier, and they smoked 10 grams of **** with a 13 year old and a 16 year old. Before they left they expected payment when we were under the impression it was just hanging out, and they sat next to my friend suggestively. I had a knife on me, and I pulled it out on the bigger one causing him to stand up violently. I slashed his wrist and his friend ran off, and we ran the other direction to a field where we slept for the night.

I will end this with a memory I just came across.
I grew up from the age of about 9 till 11 in a beautiful house in a nice neighborhood. Within those years my step dad divorced my mother because she cheated, then she lost her job, and then met her abusive boyfriend. Things started to fall apart in the last year when I was 11. I remember walking into that house after being sent away for months to live with my aunt to detox and get away, and the entire house was stripped of anything that distuingisuhed it as a house. The floors were now concrete, the windows and doors were gone, furniture was gone, clothes were gone, even the garage door. It was all sold for money. That is when we were kicked out and the troubles started to roll in for my mother and I.

I crave the touch
Of hands only his
But my only problem is
That i haven’t found him.

I crave the touch
Of hands only his
But my only problem is
That i haven’t found him.

After me and this mentally abusive boy had reached our end point, 11 months, i broke up with him. Let me go back to why.

I had been broken up with by a boy i loved dearly, but betrayed him, i cheated. I don't know why so there is no explanation for that. I met, lets call him "******", from a friend, he was sitting in the corner of the room. The room was messy, my friend was a boy, he had invited me to smoke with him. Im as you could say, flirtatious. I relentlessly texted the boy in the corner cause i knew his name. i told him he looked cute, and now that i look back at it, i don't know if i really thought he did or not.

We started dating, and things were great of course in the beginning, school had just started, i had my first job. I had always felt little, or something tugging at me. I felt like i had to retreat to him always. I stopped hanging out with people, as he didn't like most of my friends and wouldn't let me see them. I had stopped going on walks and doing photography, because he didn't feel like walking, and just wanted me to sit t home with him. I stopped guitar cause i was never home.

I was truly getting smaller, and the feeling of being little made sense.

The silence somehow howling,
in this small town of Maine.
In between the tangled weather of winter and spring.
Living in a small town, your are bound to pass by
a place from before
Wether it is bad or good, you still walk by.

My chest aches
Could it have been my heart actually breaking?
Or was it just angst?

as i look throughout the tree’s, a strand of light strikes me
i go back to an awful place like it somehow reminded me
where one day my family was perfectly fine, then the next day came
and they were no longer mine. daddy had left, and he took mommy’s heart.
and i slowly sat down and watched my mom fall apart. what i hesitate to mention,
was her partner of choice, so harsh with his hands and loud with his voice
his had stricken my mother almost on a daily, listening to my mother scream my name, “haylee!”
the constant torture at that ******* house, i needed to leave and get these thoughts out.
what my mother did, was completely unexpected, she risked her shot to leave, for me to get ahead.
i now live safe in the care of my family, but i will never forget his face, the definition of the word, scary.
and i will never forget the guilt that i feel, leaving my mother there.
but i have to move on, and do what she wished
for me to do better than she had ever did.
mom, i love you, and i will see you soon,
just to let you know, i will NEVER stop loving you

You rip me at the seams,
And make me more tattered than before.
How dare you wear me down,
And not be punished.
And how dare you not give me a second chance,
And just toss me out.

Some people keep things, and renew them.
You kept me but only until i was no longer what you wanted.
You cut and tore, you bleached and stretched me.

You toss me out

But i sit here hoping someone picks me up
And makes me beautiful.
I hope someday someone will patch up my tears,
And dye all my stains my very favorite color.
I hope someday i keep somebody warm.

This is all i have to offer,
Affection, but with boundaries.
Nurture, but limited.
And it is not because of you, but because of the others before.
That is all i have to offer, because i am terrified.
I am terrified to love someone selflessly again.
I am stuck between feeling selfish, and scared.
Am i selfish to not open myself up the way people want me to, or am i just caring for myself first?

I will no longer let the crimes of those who hurt me be silenced.
To the boy who took my virginity.
I was only 12, and you knew this.
I had never drank before, and you knew this.
But that didn’t stop you.
To the older men who took advantage of a young, intoxicated girl,
You still inflict goosebumps when the memories come.
To my mother,
I know it wasn’t your fault the man you chose to date after dad had left, beat you.
And i know that's hard to deal with.
But watching those crystals in a baggie slowly empty and enter your lungs was when you hurt me.
To the boy who abused me,
I loved you. And that’s where i was trapped.
Congratulations, you got what you wanted.
Forever control of my thoughts and self worth.
To me,
You continue to put yourself down, and you will never survive if it continues.

A combustion of fire behind my eyes, your lips hold and cling to mine, with our hands bound and intertwined. We are scared, and have been since the beginning, these people all around, kick us down while they are grinning.
And as our heads are spinning we look for the one who we can hold all the way, one day to see the sun. To one day to see the light that they say we need to find, but it is hard to search when people carry a knife, closely behind. I can see dear you are scared, and petrified am i, but no one seems to hear our outcry and we both don’t understand why. I see that this place is not so kind, but oh my love, all you can do, is trust your hand in mine.

Yes, doing drugs does mess your head up. Unfortunately, i vaguely remember one of the best memories i've ever made. My first date, and kiss. I was 12, and i had a boyfriend named jakob. That’s a whole other story to write.

It was rainy out that day, but hot. Texas weather can be beautiful. We were going to a movie tavern, to see the horror movie “Carrie”. I really wanted to see it, and he obviously didn't, but did anyways. 30 minutes had gone by, and i was so into the movie i didn't see he was staring at me until i looked at my hand, it hurt because i had been fidgeting subconsciously. He grabbed my hand, and my heart started to race. My thought was.. “ this is what it's like.” I'm smart, and sneaky. I pretend that the arm rest was hurting my side, so i put it up; knowing he’d try to put his arm around me. He did. I looked at him, lord have mercy. His eyes, icy green. His eyes always had a tendency to absolutely melt me. His hair, black. This dark haired, light eyed, tall boy is holding my hand and for once i felt normal. I felt like i belonged. Keep in mind, i was young and this was years ago. And i didn’t realize what i had in front of me, and it hurts to cherish it more and more as the years go by. Im 15 now, Life is hectic. But when i think about that time in my life, everything stops. I don't know why, but it feels safe.

The tragic part of this is, distance. Do you know what it feels like, to be so hurt, shaky hands, tragic thoughts, and the only way to get comfort from the person you love is over texting. Words. I look at the bold black words, but it being only letters on this device in my hand does not feel the same as us being intertwined.

I enjoy getting so ****** up out of normal consciousness, By ****** up, i mean ******. Or when its 2:34am and i wake up, and take a sleeping medication and sit outside to enjoy the silence. This is the quietest part of my day, I’m so out of it that my brain doesn’t move at the speed of a train, that doesn’t stop, but you’ve got motion sickness. I sit outside in this small town, where hardly a thing happens. I listen to the absolutely nothing i adore. My cigarette is half gone, and my nose is dripping but its freezing of course. After all, it is 30 out. But again, I’m ******.

you try and get closer and show me affection, but i flinch and you notice, that someones hands weren’t as kind as your’s and did not have your good intentions. You ask why i shake in the presence of men, and i hesitate to tell you that every time i shut my eyes in every blissful kiss, i see shattered glass from the window i look through called my perspective. the way i look at love is forever changed, and i will never feel comfort, but oh god do i feel safe with you if that makes any sense. you tell me we have a journey together and out of curiosity i ask what that is, and you tell me it is to make it to the destination without fear of kissing you out of excitement that we finally made it. as our journey continues, the handprints painted on my skin in red start to fade with every kiss you trail down my arms. and as i am looking at what i thought was going to be another sugarcoated tragedy, i realize that you are the rain after the rainbow, you are the healing of my wounds, you are the road i continue to walk, and you are the light that guides me down it. and for that, i am thankful, for i wouldn’t have gotten the best revenge i could plot..
to show that ******* that i can be loved.