The House That Broke Into Me
        My mistakes caused me to lose a year of my freedom. finished my witness stupidity, I managed to get arrested as a teen for second-degree burglary and spent a year of my life in repentance. I was devoid of all of the freedoms I had always taken for granted. though my actions would state otherwise, I wasnt ready for consequences. However, I had plenty of sequence to reflect on how I had gotten myself into the situation.
To start, family life wasnt a mountain pass in the park. Being the first son of an over-protective yield wasnt easy. My mother had always kept a stranglehold on my freedoms; I wasnt even allowed to ride my bicycle out of her sight until I was thirteen years old. This was about the same time, ironically, that I desire escape so fervently. Many people would say that this didnt insure the things I had done, but there were other complications.
        My father hadnt been near since I was two years old. He was a convict, a drug addict, and a boxer, in that determine. Mom married my stepfather when I was eight or so, and he began beating her on their wedding night, almost like hed been waiting for the chance. I hated him, and it only got worse. Though he never hurt my brother or me intentionally, watching what my, at the time, speed freak mother had to conduct was torture enough.
        Add poverty to this already volatile concoction, and you had the ruler for a repeat-offending runaway. From thirteen on, I ran away from home weekly at least, sometimes longer. I learned to live on the streets, stayed with people Id only just met, and did anything I could for food or cigarettes. Anything was better...
I love the way to told your story!!! Great job....writing about your own life is hard to do. But, I hope it opened up new doors for you.
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