Growing Up

Here I am, sitting in front of my laptop and just waiting for my hot chocolate to cool down a bit in order to initiate the first sip…yet not even two hours ago I was on my knees, wanting to cry but could not due to already using up all of my tears during work.  I cannot say exactly who I work for nor what exactly it is I do for a living, but trust me, if you were to find out, you would most like just last there a month.

I grew up in a neighborhood where I fell asleep with gunshot and helicopter sounds.When I was in 1st grade, walking from school towards home with my little sister and cousin, two men approached us and tried lying to us that our mother had sent them to get us for they had gone grocery shopping; don’t worry, our mothers came just in time to stop the kidnapping. I grew up in a middle school where I would see my fellow classmates sell cannabis, and have the police pat every single one of us down for drugs at least once a month.  I grew up in the same neighborhood as my bully, and in that same neighborhood, my bully’s brother was shot down in front of his house for hanging out with the wrong girl. I got to see people knife fighting in my neighborhood just because they were too drunk to cope. I saw a little girl’s dead body due to her running across the street and being hit by a car. I thought I honestly had seen the ugly side of this world, but I had no idea.

I knew my work was not going to be for the faint hearted, but…you see, I thought I was tough.  You are reading this from a girl that started fighting while wearing diapers. I beat up girls and boys, and was never afraid to challenge a boy one, two or three years older than me to Mercy or arm wrestling.  I learned to be tough when I was small, majority of it was due to the look on my big sister and big cousin’s face when I would beat a guy; they were so proud and best believe they would never let the guys forget.  But I am telling you, not even the worst neighborhood can prepare you to children suffering in a manner you never thought existed.  To think some countries allow such corruption still blows me away. To children? Really??

That’s the reason I cannot quit.  I know harder times are yet to come, but I will cry as many tears as possible, in order to get m6a60ed8c1037c23b1ddc69a2a04c499fy act together and do what I have to do. I honestly did not know what I was getting myself into, I was just extremely filled with joy for having graduated from university. How do I comfort myself? I am working on a plan, in which I will make this world a better place.  Where I am starting is a great start, but I definitely will start being more actively involved in the country’s themselves, not safely tucked away under the wings of the mighty eagle.

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