Writing Exchange V

Journal #64
When I was five years old my mother passed away from cancer. I remember playing with my friends when my father called me over and said those words, “Your mother died 3 days ago.” I remember my dad’s girlfriend crying, but I was thinking, “What’s wrong.” I remember her holding me as I cried a little. I was too young to really realize what it meant to lose my mother.
As I got older, I remember how much it hurt to know and have to think that my mommy would never come back. I have a little sister and even though it was years later, she would still cry and ask for “Mommy.” I still think to this day, “Why God? Why my mom?” Sometimes I still think she is out there somewhere and that maybe this was all a mistake and that maybe one day I will see her. I know now that she is gone, but it is easier to think differently. I still cry about my mom and wonder why. I have only a couple memories of her though.
I have 3 sisters and out of them all, I look the most like my mother. Sometimes when I look in the mirror, I think I see her, but then I remember it is just me. I know she was a good person and loved us girls very much. I am in Juvenile Hall right now because when I was 13, I distanced myself from my family and started running away from everything and everyone. I am pregnant now and I have finally realized how much I need my family. I miss my family so much. I am praying they forgive me and accept me back into their lives. I have already lost my mother and I realize now how much I really have in my life.
I am going to have a baby now and I know my life will be very rough, but I will be the best mother I can be. I will show my child love. The things I have been through in my life, the good and the bad, have only taught me more about life. I have learned from my mistakes and I am a stronger person.

Journal #65
It all happens in the blink of an eye. You don't realize what you've done until it's too late. Now all you can do is think. You wish you would have thought smarter, faster, better...NO! Wait...If you were thinking at all you would have been at home helping your mom instead of just staying out all night smoking weed, snorting coke, and popping pills. Don't you know how much she worries and cares about you? Even if you dropped out of school? You should have been home helping your younger siblings with their homework. They need you too: WAY MORE than your friends.
What the hell are friends? They dragged you down to their low level. Now you're either a functioning user or you're dependent. Drugs made you do things you regret so bad. The thoughts won't leave you alone. They are on your mind, day in and day out. You hate yourself. Not you, ME. I hate myself. Why? I don't know. I'm disgusted with it. I am deciding to change for the better. I'll finally be there for my family who misses me despite the fact that I almost walked out on them. Most importantly, I'll finally be there for myself.


Journal #66
Sitting with my mind paused off in a daze,
gripping imaginary sand, watching memories of waves
Then I think what is life and what does it mean,
Am I trapped in reality or in a complex dream?
I can feel the sound around me and it’s good to my sense,
But does anyone truly know what happens when it ends?
Is everything still good or will everything change,
It’s like a battlefield of questions I keep locked in my brain.
I admit if the outcome is bad then I’ll be scared,
But if it’s a better life, our vision was just impaired.
I can picture perfect people and places beyond wealth,
No more shedding tears, an abundance of health
Everything would be calm and I would be at ease,
We would pray with the clouds finally rising from our knees.
God’s in our stature, children to the thrown,
What I would give to stop dreaming and find my pathway home.
Cause the world today has darkened, filled with pain and sorrow,
And at the rate we’re proceeding we might not reach tomorrow.
So while everyone is sleeping in a distant land dreaming,
I’m waiting for that day to finally start breathing.

Journal #67
When I was born, my dad left my mom. My mom was addicted to multiple drugs. At three years old, my dad showed up and got custody of me. I hated him for taking me away from my mom. A year or two later, he got married to a woman I despised. I would do something wrong, not something big, but she would make it such a big deal and beat me. She smokes weed and is an alcoholic. Her and my dad would fight all the time.
I never got to be with friends. When I got to high school I dropped out. Some of my friends smoked weed, so I tried it too. I liked it so I continued to use it. My dad’s wife found out I dropped out so I got beat again. I was tired of being hit, so I ran away. I realized I liked running away and seeing friends better than staying at the house. I ran away more often.
Recently, I ran away and was out late one night. I was at a friend’s place when some police came up and accused me of starting a fire because some guys saw me earlier at a place where the fire started. Now I am in the hall and I have to wait a month and a half for a trial. The sad thing is I like it better here than at home.

Journal #68
The job I wanted was construction;
but what I've done is mass disruption.
I know that life in unfair,
they always make fun of what I wear.
But, I swear sometimes life's fair.
I look and sound young for my age.
Can you please read the next page?
I've always wanted to die,
Please don't give me one more lie.

Journal #69
There are events in everyone’s lives that change them. My father’s death changed my life and future. He died when I was seven. I didn’t even cry because I didn’t know how to feel. That is when all the discipline went away. I started doing whatever I wanted. I started smoking weed to help with the pain at age 11. That is also when I got my first felony and two misdemeanors. I was on a path of destruction. The thing I realized is that if I would have had a dad to teach me things or be there to discipline me when I messed up, I don’t think I would be in half the trouble I am in today. Fathers are important no matter how mad you get at them. Most kids are lucky because they have one. I haven’t had a father for ten years.

Journal #70
I guess you could say my dad has always been a little weird in the head. I remember him beating someone up just because he thought they took a rock from his yard. My parents were never married. I only had visits with my dad because of how cold blooded he was.
I just got out of school on a summer day and walked into my dad’s house. I was probably 8-9 years old. Who knew that it could have been the end of my life. I am not sure if my dad was spun out or not. As I walked in the door, he asked me how my day was. “Good,” I replied and went to my room to watch TV. I looked up and saw the gun slightly shaking back and forth. Then he shot it. The bullet went through my hair. Even though there was probably a loud noise, it didn’t seem to scare me. I don’t know why. Soon I went back to watching TV. My dad just walked out of the room. We never talked about it. I never told my mom because she wouldn’t have let me go back and visit him. Like six months later I saw him again as if nothing ever happened.

Journal # 71
My life is just too into the gang life. My mom tells me to stop it, but it's like an inspirational saying- it goes in one ear and comes out the other. I just can't stop the life I live. I try and I try, but it just comes back. The only way I can stop is if I move from where I live now. My parents are thinking about moving so we can get away from all the danger. I just want to say that I do want to change.

Journal #72
I chose a path.
I chose a path to walk through.
The night is dark and I don't have anyone to talk to.
The small light beaming in my eyes,
creates words that I can't describe.
There is no escape.
I feel like screaming, but I just close my eyes.
The sun has come back, but stays behind these prison walls.
Long days and long nights.
Long months and long times.
Only if I could press rewind.
I wouldn't change my way,
just my mistakes.
Hopefully, it will all fall into place.
Surrounded by hate and strangers once again,
my pride never fails.
Now I'm back up in this cell.
Once again, there is no way out.
Being broke with no home,
to being broke with my own.
The game has taught me to survive alone.
I chose a path.

Journal #73
On June 21st of last summer, my best friend died at my house. We were all partying and having a good time. We just took some methadone wafers and started drinking. No one knew my friend was dying because we were drunk in the living room. About two hours later, me and my girl went to my room and there he was on my bed, his face blue, choking on his own vomit. I ran over and flipped him on his stomach and my girl called 911. I was trying so hard to bring him back. By the time the EMT’s got there it was too late. I went to the hospital and called his mom. As she walked in, I broke down and his mom held me. I stayed with her that whole week. I felt guilty because he stole the pills from his mom. I forgot about him. If I would have found him sooner, it could have saved his life. Now I have to live with that. I will not make that mistake again. It changed my life forever.

Journal #74
An event that changed me was when my mom passed away. I was almost 10 years old and had been staying in a group home at the time. It was Thursday, June 16th. I was going to visit her. I had talked to her the night before. She was acting really weird, saying, “I’ll love you not matter what happens.” It really scared me, but she acted weird quite a lot.
Well, when I got to the place where we visited, we went to a different room than we usually visited in. I thought nothing of it until I walked in a room with my social workers and my counselor. They handed me my mom’s teddy bear and a picture of me and my mom on Christmas. Then they said, “Your mom’s dead.” I said, “Your ******* kidding me.” They said, “No, I’m sorry. She died in her sleep last night.” They told me she had a heart attack. Then they said they were going to tell my sister next. I said, “No, I am. It will be easier on her.” So we went to my sister’s. I gave her my mom’s stuffed puppy and a picture of her and my mom.
On July 7th we had the memorial at the Amphitheater. A week later we went to my mom’s viewing. It looked like she was sleeping. I wanted to wake her up so bad. My social worker kept saying my mom had a heart attack.
It is now two years later, and I recently found out it was a suicide, not a heart attack. That just brought me back to crying. I had to tell my sister. Man, I miss my mom.

Journal #75
I was sent to ROP (a wanna-be boot camp) for damn near two years. During that time I was messing up. I ran at least 9 times. I was selling weed and smoking it. It took me a minute for something to pop in my head. That was when my older brother told me to be better than him. The thing that made me think about it was a phone call home from the “boot camp.” My older brother told me my mom was in the hospital and they didn’t plan on letting her out. Instead, they were going to send her to a rehabilitation facility until she recovered from her 6 heart-bypasses. During all the surgeries, they discovered that my mom wouldn’t be able to walk, was partly blind, and had slight memory loss.
The “boot camp” was telling me that I would not be able to go home until my mother got out of the hospital. A month passed. I finally got a home pass to go and see her for three days. Well, during that home pass, I was told that our house was up for closure, because the bills weren’t getting paid. By that time the bill was sky high. I didn’t have anything else to do except to try and make money, so that we didn’t lose the house. My little brother was locked up and I wanted him to go home and not have to live in the streets. So I started selling dope on my home pass. I turned my home pass into a 3 month home pass instead of a 3 day. I was making paper. I was saving it for that house. My cousin told me to head back to the camp.
When I got back to ROP, everything was all messed up. It took me 3 or 4 more months to qualify for a six bed group home. Then I asked for a pass to see about my mom and they gave it to me. Now my home was boarded up. Mom was still in the hospital, so I ran and was selling again. It took 10 months for them to catch me. Now I sit in Juvenile Hall waiting till September to come by. Then I’ll be free and I’ll be 18.