Sometimes I just don’t know how I get through the day with everything that’s on my mind. I honestly don’t even know why I’m writing this right now but for some reason I feel I need to. I will be trying to avoid using names to protect privacy with the exception of a few but anyway if you’re interested in listening to it here it is, but in order to better understand the whole story I am going to have to start from the beginning.
My name is Jesse and I was born in a housing project in Queens, NY to a soon to be single mother and a deadbeat of a father. We never really had much money (we live in a housing projects so of course we don’t); it was a struggle for my mother to put food on the table having to feed two kids as well as have something for herself to eat. I have an older sister who has a different father then me (yeah he’s a deadbeat too) and I had my mother’s family, little did I know that would not last forever. But before I get too ahead of myself I have to say my father and his family were somewhat there in the beginning. My mother and my father had a rocky relationship from the start but there were times he used to take me to his home and I would meet his family. It was so long ago that I can’t even remember what we did together, hell all I remember is he never really knew how to be a father. His father abandoned him when he was young and came back in his life when he was an adult I’m told (guess he thought that would happen with me but he was VERY wrong). I was also told by my mother that when I was 1 year old his family threw me a birthday party with no presents, not because they had no money to buy presents, but because they didn’t like my mother. In truth though all I really remember is that he used to scream in my ear until my hearing was bad in one ear and that one time when I went over to his house he locked me in the bathroom. That came about because I would not eat something that he told me to eat (I mean come on I was what, 5 or 6, what kid listens to everything there parents say! Little did I know it was actually more than just being a picky eater but we’ll get to that later) so what he does is he slams me on the couch, picks me up then slams me again, and of course I’m crying at this point, scared to death. So when he finally does stop I run to the bathroom and close the door. You know what he does? He locks the door on me! I’m trying to open it and it won’t open, I’m guessing he put something in front of it but what I do know is that I can’t remember how long I was in that bathroom before he finally lets me out and takes me back to my mother’s house.