(photo taken by: Dorothea Lange)
I started smoking when I was young, about 8 years old. My uncle gave me my first cigarette ever, and it was the Marlboro brand. I didnt really enjoy it because I kept choking really bad. But afterwards I started to like it and I did it more often.
I loved getting high. It let me escape the world. I forgot every problem that I had. For instance, my father, always drunk, hitting me all the time till I bled. My mother, she sells herself, gone all the time, sleeping with strangers instead of coming home. My father, he's used to it, doesnt do anything about it anymore since my mother gets the money and he doesnt. So she's basically maintaining him, providing for him, so he keeps his mouth closed. So he takes his anger off of me.
Whenever my mother's gone and my father is passed out, I leave the house. I go to my uncle's house and stay there for days and my parents dont even find out. He smokes a lot, and he says that they help him relax and stay chill.
My parents dont like me going there, they think he's to stuck up and he always tells them that they need to be more responsible of me. But they dont care anyways.
I loved getting high. It let me escape the world. I forgot every problem that I had. For instance, my father, always drunk, hitting me all the time till I bled. My mother, she sells herself, gone all the time, sleeping with strangers instead of coming home. My father, he's used to it, doesnt do anything about it anymore since my mother gets the money and he doesnt. So she's basically maintaining him, providing for him, so he keeps his mouth closed. So he takes his anger off of me.
Whenever my mother's gone and my father is passed out, I leave the house. I go to my uncle's house and stay there for days and my parents dont even find out. He smokes a lot, and he says that they help him relax and stay chill.
My parents dont like me going there, they think he's to stuck up and he always tells them that they need to be more responsible of me. But they dont care anyways.
He's like a father, and a mother to me. I tell him my problems and how I feel. I told him that I couldnt do it anymore.
One day I went to his house and started crying when I got there. I had blood all over me and I just couldnt stay with my parents anymore. He was telling me to calm down and rest. I couldnt, I hated my life so much I wanted to kill myself. But I didnt.















