Chapter 1

Who Am I?

The person who struggled all through school. I sat outside the principal’s office many a day in my early teen years.

I am the person that stopped caring about tangible objects the day everything I owned went up in flames.

I am broken. That is what life does to people. We are all broken in one way or the other. Some people are just too wrapped up in their plastic goods or distracted by their cell phones to realize it.

I’m the person who could care less about your Nordstrom jacket, or your Gucci shoes. I grew up with a hand me down jacket and we bought one pair of shoes a year—if that. Your things do not impress me. I am just stymied you spend so much on stuff you’ll never take with you when you die.

When I was eight diagnosed with ADHD and PTSD and a learning disability. I really couldn’t concentrate on anything either of them said. To make my efforts to concentrate more difficult, the contentious yelling by my parents would keep me awake at night. I would guzzle Nyquil so I could sleep.

I am the under underdog. At the age of 14 I ran away from home. I applied for a job washing dishes at a local restaurant when I turned 15 a few months later. I worked and went to school—until one day I didn’t. I moved out of one friend’s house and into another friend’s house for a few months.

To be continued…