“My father was a good man. He always had a job. He never drank. He never smoked. But my mother was never stable. We were evicted so many times. She spent all our money on drugs. When I was in sixth grade, she stabbed my father in the stomach with a butcher knife. I'll never forget that sound. It sounded like a suction cup. Then another time she threw lye on his face and his skin came off. But my father stayed through it all because he didn’t want us to be alone with her. I don’t tell my psychiatrist about my mother. I don’t want him to look at me like I’m her. I hate when people do that. Some people say I’m just like her. Because I get violent. I stabbed somebody too. But I’m not like her. Because I got help. I’ve been on Lithium, Xanax, everything. I love myself right now. But I don’t like myself when I’m not on my medicine. Because everyone pushes my buttons. Everything bothers me. I get evil.”
