Taking the wrong path home

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
I had to write this for English class. It was a copy/change and it could only be one page length, about my life

Submitted: November 23, 2011

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Submitted: November 23, 2011



Taking the Wrong Path Home

It hasn’t always been this way. There was a time when my backyard couldn’t hold elephants, and my basement didn’t exist. I had been a lonely child, no brothers, no sisters. I lived in a house, a house I will never again be able to locate. The hallways were never abandoned, though I had never seen them. I lay in my bed, day after day, blocking out the noise of people roaming. The bed next to mine was empty, my cousin never was home. I was alone.

We hadn’t stayed long in that house, I moved many times, and making friends was never easy. My mom always told us we would move into a house of our own.

 But I know how those things go.

Everything changed, yet nothing at all. I now had a room of my own, and a baby brother. The little attention I received before was now directed towards the new baby Nathan. He was a fire alarm, so my room was the only place I knew. I barely talked and my peers treated me like I had the plague. Now caught in the wrong crowd, and it didn’t take long.

It took one person, one person, who spun my good intentions into a 180 twist. She cast a spell of love, a fake love none the less. An addiction so strong, I didn’t see it coming. Sneaking out, drugs and alcohol engulfed my life. My car served her well, and the marijuana kept me coming back. I was in my own world, floating above the ground. No pain. Days felt like months, months were years. Grades plummeted. Still alone, but yet never feeling more at home.

I fought with my mom daily, getting angry at nothing. Wholes covered my door from what turned into a bloody fist. Eminem described my life. Skipping school was my hobby, and I started falling into an abyss. Life became pointless, the more drugs I took, the more death seemed welcoming. I needed help, but wasn’t looking for answers.

Life only got worse, so the Romeo house opened its doors for me. It was perfectly full of imperfections. Well water that circulated the scent of rotten eggs throughout the house when turned on.  The doors creaked from every movement. But my dad told me it was for the best. This house allowed no escape, and I was miles from the crowd that ruined me. I was now caught in a new town, with a new family and I held new expectations. It was a house of five, dad, Kathy, my sister Kayla, my brother Zachary, and me. I was now a role model, and I felt like one. I finally felt at home, my own house.

 Depression and drugs no longer control me.

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