I was about fourteen years old when I left home.
There was no real peace at home. Watched my mom struggle when I was younger. My dad he left early on, I was about five. And really seeing my mom leave from that abusive relationship to another abusive relationship and just not really understanding why my father wasn’t there.
So I just grew up missing something–not really sure what it was but just knowing something was missing. When I was old enough, thought I was old enough anyway, I turned to the streets.
I remember my very first time being arrested. I was arrested on a drug possession. And ironically I felt like I had arrived because, you know, I went to jail. I’m like sixteen years old.
When I came back home nothing about my community had changed.