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The Identity Chapter 1

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Chapter 1
















November 1994















Heather




















What do you call it when you feel lost, with noone to talk to? Or when you don't know your identity? Deppression. Almost like you're in a dark box, away from everybody. Maybe you won't break out of the box, maybe you will. But what if you can't?



That's what my life is like. I'm stuck with those jerks, my drug addicted brother, and I never know when or even if I could break away from them. How do you deal with that? My high school is like a shark tank. Especially with those idiots who think they rule the freaking planet. That small gang of Senior bullies that always have a craving for me, Heather Silver. I guess one of the reasons why is because I'm a Freshman. But they don't go after any of my friends, just me. I don't know why.








I like gothic things, but they're more of the hip-hop/rap type of group. Is that why they hate me? Can't be. But most of the kids in my school hate the Gothic culture-just like I hate rap. When you listen to rap it feels like the song will never end, and all they rap about is sex, violence, and drugs. No thanks. Not for me.






But when you pin your soul againist a heavy metal song, it feels like you're living with your soul on the pulse of the universe. Everything just feels so high up and the longer its there, the higher you feel. And then suddenly you notice that there's more to Emo than crank and cutting and depression.That's how I feel,but too bad almost nobody I know can't feel that. The worst part of my life-not only the fact that my parents died in a car accident-is that I live with Jacob. He's awful-crack takes over some people's lives. Oh, how I wish there was some way to deal with this!













Chase
Manny is bothering the crap out of me again.He's coming in and out of me and Liam's room. This is one of the things of many things that I hate about living in a group home. Can't have your own room. Can't go out past 8 p.m. Can't do this. . . .can't do that. I can go on forever. My roomate-Liam just keeps taking in deep breaths and trying to concentrate on his homework. Manny is like my little brother. Me and Liam have known him since we were thirteen-before we got in here.We always laugh at how Manny thinks he already has stength in his six-year old hands. He's always tried to be a "man" about things.




I think its because he came here for a reason. Both his parents were abusive- they used to pour boiling hot water on his legs when he didn't do something that they asked him. He had friends about ten to twelve years old, teaching him crap-the type of crap that got me in here.











When I was twelve I lived with Jared. I don't know if its that mom left when we were young or that dad died of an overdose, but he started using. I was the one that had to buy the crack for him. I still remember how he threatened me if I didn't: "You don't want me to throw you out into the street, with all those gang bangers and s**t, do you?" Nope. Let him get off my back for a while.





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