Journal #32
I remember the hate I felt toward everyone including myself.Hating my parents for abandoning me to get their fixand the cops for being pricks.They would take my parents away and lock them up almost every year.I remember going to foster home after foster home,always feeling so alone.The threats these strange new people told to mewhich made me not want to be.I remember after being away from my parents for more than 3 years I couldn’t feel for them anymore.I couldn’t let out any tears.I smoked dope at 14 yearsDrank so many beersBut yet I still couldn’t cry.I remember feeling I just wanted to die.
Journal #33
****…Why do I feel like falling back to my old habits? I have been doing so good but it’s life that is changing. I quit gang banging and I’m trying to get along with the people that were my so called “Enemies,” but I can’t. Every time I see them it brings up anger for me. Not for the gang they are in, just that they were the one’s that hurt me and my family. Now that I don’t kick it or talk to my old friends, I feel like a new person, but society still see’s me the same. What did I do to be looked at so bad? I didn’t kill anyone! I might have gotten into fights, but most teens do that, right?Now that most of my friends are gone either to prison, in jail, or left town, I don’t feel so protected anymore. I stay home and if I go out, it’s either my front porch or a locally, but I don’t leave my apartments. It’s not the fact that I’m scared. It’s just that my mind is seeing different.I make better decisions but I know I’m feeling like giving up and I don’t know why. The people that I thought I would never see, that I hurt over a colored bandana, are getting closer to me than ever. They started coming to my school. Now I have to learn how to cope with them being in the same classroom as me but every time I see them it brings up so many memories of my old self. In some ways, I miss my old self, but all it was, was just a part of my life that I’m going to put in the past like the other **** that made me stronger and wiser.I thought being on probation was going to be so hard for me to deal with, but now it’s helping me from doing things that would put me back in the hall. Plus, my probation officer is not on my *** because I am doing what I am supposed to. Wow, I thought I would never change and now I’ve completely done a 180 in my life and I’m happy. I’m just afraid I’m going to go back to my old habits, self, etc.
Journal #34
I remember when I was a little boy and my father took my little brother and bounced out. I remember seeing him early that morning. When I got home from school later that day, I walked in to see my mother crying on the phone with the police. I didn’t know why until she got off the phone.I asked her why she was crying. She told me, but I was confused. I was so young then and didn’t know what to do. I asked if the cops were going to help. My mom told me there was nothing they could do. I remember crying, thinking I was never going to see my brother again. My mom told me I would, but to this day nothing has ever been the same.
Journal #35
I remember just the other day after my fiancés court date, wondering about the same thing, “Does God really exist?” A lot of things have happened where I just have to ask myself that question over and over again. I feel like if He really does exist, why didn’t he get my fiancé out on probation for something he didn’t even do? Now he’s getting sent to prison while I raise our 8 month old daughter and give birth to our son soon.I think if He really did exist, he wouldn’t let my daughter grow up fatherless, let alone another child. Sometimes I hate God. It feels like He hasn’t been fair to me. Sometimes I ask myself what the **** did I do wrong? If I did something wrong, wasn’t my childhood enough to pay for it?Anyways, it’s weird how I am feeling because there are also times where I thank Him for everything good that I do have: like my daughter. She’s the only thing holding me together right now. I really don’t know what I’d be doing right now if I didn’t have her. I really don’t. I think of what my life used to be before her and when I do that, I go back to my original question, “Does God really exist?”
Journal #36
I remember the days when I could trust people. I remember how it was when I was little, when I didn’t know if something was wrong. I just knew the good and everything seemed OK. I miss that life. It’s not so stressful and you don’t have so many cares when you are that little. I really think the whole world should be like that. What’s the point of the bad things? What’s the point of doing them? I just get in more trouble.When I was little, I used to trust everybody. Now I don’t trust anyone. I don’t like that. I m kind of like a turtle; I have a guard around my emotions. I can’t even get into them. My brain doesn’t even trust me enough to let me care about something or somebody.I feel bad because I have a girl who loves me and I love back, but I don’t trust and if I don’t’ trust someone, I lie to them. I feel bad because we want to be together but we can’t because I can’t stop lying to her. I need help.
Journal #37
I remember blue doors and white bricksHope my minds playing ******* tricks.Concrete floors and bright lights.Hope I don’t get into too many fights.I remember 7 minute phone calls and 3 minute showers.Locked in our cells for endless hours.
Journal #38
I remember the sound of my mom crying every time we would go home to my step dad’s house. She would always tell me to go across the street to her friend’s house and to come back in an hour. I remember every time I would come back home my mom would cry and it made me feel so sad. I never knew exactly what happened so my mom, but pictures would have fallen from the wall and she would have a red marking on her face. Every time they would fight, I felt like it was somehow my fault.
Journal #39
I remember standing in the cold rainI remember the sound of a crackling cigarette in the dead silence of the night.I remember waking up and not knowing where I was.I remember looking all day for something to eat.I remember going on snack missions.I remember leaving and hearing a little girl yelling, “No, don’t go! I’ll miss you too much,” as she wrapped her arms around my legs.I remember how hard the rocks are by the river. They don’t work so good as a bed. Jackets don’t keep out all of the chill.I remember waking up to people yelling and screaming about nothing.I remember waking up alone.I don’t know how long these things will have to go on.I just hope my dreams come true, especially my biggest one of all: tolerance.
Journal #40
How do I do it: raise a child that we never meant to be here? Daddy’s gang affiliated, mommy can’t do it alone. What if the other gang tries coming for daddy. If they can’t get daddy, what if they come for mommy? Our child will not be an orphan. I can’t let that happen. My little boy will not grow up to be like daddy. My little girl will not be torn like mommy. My baby, it will not be a srew-up.
Journal #41
I just got out of the hall about a month or two ago. Before I went to the hall, I was so ****** up: drinking and doing powder almost every day. If I didn’t have a beer or any type of drink, it felt like I couldn’t function. I couldn’t even get out of bed. If I did, it was only to drink. It’s a new year now and I promised myself that I wouldn’t get another drunk in public, but on New Year’s, I got to thinking about my mom. She is going through so much, but I can’t stay with her because of her drug problem. So everything in my life is going so wrong. Everything that I try to do good always ends up a mess. Well, today my probation officer and my case worker came to my school and told me that I have to move to another town. I don’t even know anyone there.
Journal #42
I remember a house full of tweakers. I remember me as a 14 year old girl doing dope. I remember hearing BENTIF banging on the door, “Drug Task Force, open the door!” I remember everyone trying to hide there ****. I remember my 16 year old brother opening the door. I remember mom was not home, she was at her boyfriend’s. I remember all the cops. I remember everyone was in handcuffs besides me because they didn’t have enough. I remember my brother saying, “Anything you find is mine.” I remember after they raided our whole apartment, they took everyone besides me and two guys down to the patty wagon. I remember the cops didn’t take one of the guy’s cell phones. I remember the guy called my 27 year old brother and told him his little sister was at home with BENTIF. He arrived, opened the door, and yelled inside to me, “Don’t say anything.” I said, “I know.” The cops slammed the door. I remember him yelling at the cops, “Let me talk to my little sister.” I remember the cops checking to see if he had a warrant so they could arrest him too. I remember they saw my purse and asked whose it was. I didn’t respond, but one of the guys who didn’t get arrested told them it was mine. I remember they asked me if they could search it. I said, “No,” but they did. I remember they found a glass pipe and a baggy of dope. I remember the interrogated me for two hours without my parents knowing. I remember they were going to take me to the hall. I remember my brother convinced the cops to let me go home with him. I remember the next day going home to my dad’s house. I remember really disappointing my dad and one of my brothers.
Journal #43
I remember the little kid that once was an angel.I remember getting put in a chamber.I remember what freedom once felt like.Now I’m locked in a cell full of anger.I remember blaming other people for the stuff I did.I remember the police saying I was a defiant kid.But I only have one life to live.And my mom loves me no matter what kind of **** I did.I remember our school was the only school that I have ever liked and now it is going to close.
Journal #44
I remember sleeping in a van and having no tan.I remember my mom telling me to go home, but being too stoned.I remember robbing stores and dirty whores.I remember slimy tweakers and filthy sneakers.I remember having no money and it wasn’t that funny.I remember dope and your sister’s hope.
Journal #45
I remember promising myself I would always take care of my mom. I remember staying with her at all times, even when she was cooking and cleaning. I guess that is why I like to cook and clean. And one day I remember my mom saying to my dad, “I’m fed up with you always hitting me and ****. I’m packing up my things and leaving with my son.” When we got into the car she said, “Promise me that you’ll never hit or disrespect a girl.” I promised. I promised I would treat a woman the way I wanted to be treated and that if she wanted to do something fun, I would take her. Journal #46 I remember when I could run as fast as the wind.I remember when I wanted to be just like my dad.I remember the day I saw who he really was.Now all I remember is how much I hate him and yes, I know hate is a strong word. I mean it to its fullest and deepest meaning.I remember when I was a kid and did not know what hate or pain or regret or let down meant or felt like.I wish I didn’t remember at all.
Journal #47
I remember when our school went to San Francisco on a field trip. I remember we got to the hostel, unloaded the vans, and put our bags in our rooms. That night we walked to Mel’s Diner and ate the best hamburgers I have ever eaten in my life. The next day we went to the Exploratorium and then went and had lunch at the Wave Organ. I remember at Pier 39 the sounds of the sea lions. I remember the flashes of all of the cameras. I remember the boat ride to Alcatraz and the tour around the island. I remember the van ride home when we all fell asleep and woke up in Chico. I remember it was pouring rain and Scott Bailey drove me home.
