"You act like your ma and look like your papa"

School went decently, except for the part about actually arousing out from my bed by the drowned out sounds of yelling spewing from my mother's mouth. I wanted to do nothing, to be defiant; however, the sun just kept waking me up and I eventually rolled onto the floor slamming into the remembrance of being thrown from my bed when my father still lived only a few rooms away from me.

The hardest part is learning what you have to be, and what you don't have to believe. I don't have to believe my father, and I don't have to be my mother...so blatantly I won't! Booyah!