Status: I seriously don't know when this will get written, but it will.

Bubbles

Une

When I was younger my parents always told me that no matter how bad things got, there was always someone out there in a worse situation than me. 

Recently, I've stopped believing that. 

I have nothing to my name apart from a tiny flat in one of those high rise buildings and a box of Pot Noodle gathering dust in one of my kitchen cupboards. 

I have no money, no friends and no family. I work three jobs to pay for my rent bills and to buy necessities like clothes and food. 

And even then, it's not as if I could afford much food anyway. I think pretty soon I'll be queueing up in soup kitchens for a free meal if my life carries on this way. 

It's funny how many kids think their parents are just being controlling idiots when they tell them not to get mixed up in the wrong crowd. I know that what's I thought about my parents when I got told that. I was that shitty little punk kid who had no control over his temper and a smart-arse mouth that got him into trouble all the time. I had no respect for anyone or anything, including my own body. 

My teenage years were spent abusing myself with drugs and alcohol. When you're a stupid kid you don't think about what it's going to be like when you grow up. You think you can just carry on that way forever with no responsibilities, but you can't. I figured that out the hard way. 

I lost both of my parents in the same year and it ruined me. My father died when I was seventeen from a heart attack and four months later my mother was diagnosed with terminal kidney failure. I already had all the wrong friends and after she died, I gave in to their ideas and suggestions and started getting wasted and off my face every day.

I couldn't cope with what had happened so I just lost myself in drugs and alcohol. I went to live with my dad's sister and her husband who had two kids younger than me. That didn't last long. 

I got shipped round between my family, dropped out of school and ended up sleeping on couches most nights. 

I think the worst part was that I didn't care. The worst part wasn't that everyone else had given up on me, but I had given up on myself. And after all, who do you have if you don't even have yourself? 

I couldn't hold down a job and had way too many run ins with the police and before I knew it I was at a dead end. The sad thing was, it took me seven years to release it. 

So I got a job and slept on my friend's couch for nearly six months until I had enough to start paying rent for the shitty little apartment I'd lived in for the last five years. I went to night school and finally got some qualifications and quit the drugs and booze. 

I was proud that I was getting my life back on track. 

That was until I met Chris. 
♠ ♠ ♠
Bonjour. Que pensez-vous de mon histoire jusqu'ici?

Sorry, I'll speak in English. Yeah, basically tell me what you think of my fucking story and leave me a fucking comment :D

xo