My survival instincts forced me to grow up fast. By 8 I was raising my brother and sister. They became my focus and my purpose. Keeping them safe, keeping them at the forefront, because my parents had began their descent into heroin addiction and I was too afraid of losing them to reach out for help. At that point anything I had ever hoped for myself ceased to exist in reality. The well-intended throughout my life told me I was wasting time, wasting my potential, I should be doing something with my life. I was surviving. That was the most I could have hoped for. 30 years have come and gone, and here I sit, trying to convince myself that it isn’t too late, that my entire life hasn’t been wasted. Those echoes tell me to give up, to surrender. There’s nothing here for me. But I’ve always had a rebellious streak. There is no set guideline on how to live a life. Do it whichever way you can. At your own pace. In your own time. However you see fit. 🖤
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