At Least Im Still Alive

My mom left me at my aunts when i was about 11 or 12, she took my little brother though, they were supposed to be going with her husband to find us a place to live. I lived at my aunts for almost a year. Once i went home things were never the same. Thats when i first knew that my step dad didnt want me around. I started running away soon after, I was signed over as a ward of the court at 13, and i would run away from group homes, get sent home, run away from there, and end up in jail, group home and back on the streets. I would hang out with the local gangs and sleep with whoever owned the house we were partying at. I hitchiked allover the country at 14 or 15, did drugs. slept with truck drivers to have a place to sleep. I even stole my moms van and credit card on my 16th birthday so i wouldnt have to go back to a group home that i had already run away from. This got me 2 years in the juvinial detention, blessing in disguise, routine and safety that i had not known. i was paroled at 17. I ended up in las vegas nevada when i stole that van after the money ran out i turned myself into the cops so i wouldnt have to prostitute or end up some junkie.After i turned 18, nobody cared anymore and i went to boston to become an exotic dancer, and for the first time i had my own place, a car, clothes and it felt good. Im not proud of the things ive done, is there anyone out there with a story like thisone?