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Jun 2019
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.
Chloe Zafonte
Written by
Chloe Zafonte  22/F/United States
(22/F/United States)   
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