I am an adopted child. Somewhere out there is a man and a woman where some form of intercourse occurred and I am the product of it. Don’t know who they are, never tried to find out. Won’t try to find out, Esther and Lewis warts and all are the parentals I claim.

I led off with that because folx out here got it twisted. Putting things out there on Al Gore’s Internet calling me names doesn’t phase me. Mind you my feelings can and do get hurt from time to time but calling me a hambeast? That ain’t it kid.

My first hours of life were spent getting left behind. Adoption is take this kid. Possibly because they are unwanted but also possibly not. The take away here though is I began life getting left, that also is not something new to me, and it might sting for a moment but it doesn’t phase me the way it used to once upon a time.

Esther & Lewis did the divorce thing, and I got to spend years 3is until 6 bouncing from a grandmother who I loved but never met an extension cord she could not beat a kid with, and a mother who just beat a kid because her man left her.

At the age of 9 I ran away from home. Mind you I’d done it before, this time though it was to escape something else. The neighbor’s son. The mother worked a lot, and I was always ‘acting out’ so she started paying one of the neighbors across the street to babysit me. She had a teen son who liked to watch me get dressed and stroke himself. At the time I didn’t know what it was, I just knew how it made me feel – afraid. So I decided I was going to go live with my brothers. Walked all the way to their house after school one day. My reward was an immediate call to my paternal grandmother and a rape. I was raped at 9 by my bother, one of Lewis’ 3 sons [that we know of].

I’d be sexually assaulted 2 more times before my junior year of high school. At 18 I ran off to live with my boyfriend, who was also technically a cousin but that’s a different story for a different entry. I didn’t realize he didn’t have a pot to piss in or window to throw it out of, or that he would beat me when I would not give him cigarettes, or that he too would rape me.

I met and lost my first ‘real’ love in a year in my 20s and it sent me down a wicked spiral. I mean ugly. Some other things happened between 18 and 26 but I am telling a story here and making a point.

I was trying to kill myself, in a different way than that time I slit my wrists when I was 15. I was close to being successful too when the Universe took some sperm and attached it to one of my eggs even though we used condoms. I guess my guardian angel was sick of me and was asking for assistance. The Clyde changed my life. He made we want to live first of all, that was something I hadn’t felt for quite some time. We tried living with the maternal but that didn’t work out well. Then we tried living on the 2nd floor of a duplex, and well I did not realize I would be out of a job. We went from there to a whole house in a rough part of South Philly. It was there I learned how to jail break a phone box and an electric meter because there was always more month than money and while I might go days without eating he could not. From there we moved to a nicer part of South Philly but that was not going to last, and it did not.

Back to the maternal’s we went, I understood I needed to suffer some for Clyde’s sake and suffer I did. In the middle of all of that there was the revolving door of that ‘first love’ and career set backs. Lots of challenges and disappointments until 2007. The maternal’s stroke flip the entire table over and it took 5 months and some fortune to get Valerie out the house she was trying to sell from under us.

From 2007 until 2014 it was just the 3 of us. They had just me. I cared for a physically and mentally impaired mother and a elementary school aged son on the Autism spectrum alone. We ain’t the same. Some of those stories are here. Some are not because the day to day was hard as fuck and writing it and living it was too much even for me.

The Incident was Halloween 2014 and by March 2015 I was homeless. I spent 2 years in that shelter fighting for my life which was taken from me. When I was finally able to get another apartment – this time for 2 – that also was ripped away from me without ceremony.

In 2019 I spent almost a year living in Baltimore in a boarding house, in a neighborhood that looked and sounded like The Wire year one. I met a Sherriff with a semi auto rifle he pointed to my head there. Of all the times before I’d tried to die [suicide attempts] I thought this might be my first murder and I would be naked and covered in baby oil. Not exactly how I pictured it.

I met someone I could love and did and bet on him. I went all in as the saying goes and I didn’t catch a good card on the flop in May of 2022 and all the chips were gone.

I battled still to get here to this moment in time against all the odds because I should not have been able to maintain after his betrayal. I’m still here though over 1 year later and executing the plan we built together without him.

That’s just some highlights, the page by page details are being written and they are gruesome more than than beautiful.

Through it all I was a fat Black woman who was bisexual. Yeah, gruesome was a thing.

All that up there is a reminder, because I know you pop in and read I get the visitor data. It is a reminder that no matter what you THINK your best and hardest shot is when you aim at me, I’ve lived through worse. Standing I remain, and always will. Call me all the names you can string together and it changes nothing.