im suicidal. its true. my father commited suicide when i was 6. i witnessed it. he didnt know i was in the room. but i was. i looked down at the one possession he left behind. his gun. after witnesses his splattered head across my garage floor, i decided that i would one day kill myself with the very gun my father commited suicide with. by the age of 7, my mother had become a drug addict and ran low on money. she decided to become a prostitute. because of her addiction, she owed money. lots of money. to people who liked their money. they killed her. i was then sent from foster home to foster home experiences rape, molestation, abuse, and many other gruesome events. the first home i went to at the age of 8 thought i was "too pretty", so the beat me. the second home o went to thought i was "too innocent" so the rape and molested me. the third home i went to thought my hair was "too shiny" so they decided to lock me into a closet and rip out my hair. then, finally, the fourth home i went to locked me into their garage and created a slave shop with me and my seven brothers and sisters. after that, i never talked. im 14 now and am in for a rough life. ive been through more homes in six years than most people have been in a lifetime. i guess you could say im bad luck. i was doomed from the start. if you did, i would say that you're right. im a fuck-up and not only did i fuck up my life. but i fucked up everyone's around me. i was a fuck-up until i met amy.