Hiding From Myself

my story starts when i was five and my mother married a Muslim man and was introduced to there ways of living he was very abusive to me and my mother and i had to endure this way of life for three years.his method of punishment for me what i can remember anyway was to have me drink **** from the toilet and keep me locked up in the basement for days at a time with no water or ability to use a bathroom so i had to go where i could. when i was seven i remember trying to tell my mother how tall the cat was and he called me a liar and said i need my hand cut off to teach me a lesson about lying and attempted to do so but my mother stop him. after meany years of abuse and mind games my mother became susceptible to his way of life and became herself abusive to deal with the stress of being abused herself i think.when i was eight i remember being very hungry and had to steal food from my own home and remember being beating for it and being forced into a bath tube full of water with the intent of drowning me i guess the neighbor heard the screams and called the police and child welfare because they took me away the next day. for meany year i was placed in group homes where i was beat-up and teased and foster home where i was raped,molested and abandoned by the very people who swore to take care of me, at 15 i was on the street a lot fending for myself sleeping where i could at 18 i was tossed from the system and became homeless hanging with people i though where my friends till hanging with them got me shot so i moved on and and found an outlet to my problems alcohol and drug for a long while where my friends which left me to be a shell of a person.i've lived a life of meany personalities and lies and forgot along the way which one's where real which one's where lies and I've gone thru great pain trying to find who i am.and what my purpose is and have come to the conclusion that there is not one and my presents here is not needed.
cottoninharlem cottoninharlem
18-21, M
Dec 10, 2012