I am from
I am from a broken home.
Losing myself within the walls of each house I’ve lived.
I am from my mother, only my mother.
A seventeen year old not ready to raise herself, raised me.
I am from raising my sister like she is my own.
Making sure she’s cared for.

I am from coping with losses and disappointments.
Family and friends lost to suicide or cancer.
I am from sit downs and heart breaking phone calls.
Feeling that I could have done better. Thinking everything was my fault.
I am from patching each hole…
ripped apart by goodbyes.

I am from PTSD and anxiety...
learning that with time it will heal.
I am from meeting new people, but never letting them in.
Standing tall and smiling even when I don’t want to.
I am from a broken home.
In losing myself, I’ve found better.