An Artist That Needs Support

  has gone though but, it is not as bad as hers.  If you are not the strong type I advise that you stop reading right now.

When I was about 6 my single mom was moving around and around trying to make ends meet, getting better jobs to support us.  Although poor I still enjoyed my life...that is until my mom remarried the man I call my wicked stepfather.  When I was 7 as I started the first grade he would be away from home in working another state but, when he would return it meant pain for me.  He wanted me to stay home but, to do nothing for my own benefit or enhancement.  I was often called a crybaby at school when things did not go my way but, I was afraid that if things did not go my way I would get punished.  It got so bad that I that told him that committing suicide would be better than living with him in which he said, "The knives are in the kitchen, don't make a mess."  The only thing that stopped me from going through with this is the knowledge that people would be upset if I did it and my wicked stepfather would be the only person that would not miss me.  Although he called himself extremely religious he loved his car more than mom and my sisters...he didn't even let us eat in the car.
The last straw for my mom was when her car broke down in which he would drive by without even slowing down.  After filing for divorce the judge asked me for custody I said, "I wouldn't give him custody of an ant farm."   Finalized the paperwork was sealed and I thought 10 years of hell was over.  In which I was in jr. year of high school.

Unfortunately it was not that simple.  After 9/11/2001 my half-sister Grace thought that it would be fun to be the one that bullies me.  Though she did not have enough power to beat me up she found ways to punish me.  Like she would sit in the chair by the front door and when I would come in she would kick me in the bull's eye.  When I took guitair lessons she would tell me to scram for practicing and when I gave up she would call me a quitter instead of being relived.  She once tried to kill me by frostbite lockout after having an argument over how to make a peanut butter sandwich.  After another 10 years of hell she moved out because mom decided to charge her rent as punishment for trying to steal the car.

After she moved out I thought that can finally enjoy my childhood but, I have a problem with that...I HAVE A JOB!