I don’t like to complain. I honestly can’t remember having complained about anything in my life other than jokingly. But one thing that has always been hard for me is the fact that I’ve never had anyone I could truly talk to, and I still don’t. In some ways, it can be a good thing, and in some ways, it can be a bad thing. On the bad side, everything that happens to me stays bottled up in my head and this is the first time in my life that I’ve ever tried to write any of it. And on the good side, no one knows anything about me other than what I let them see, including the very small amount of people that I consider to be my friends.

I had some free time yesterday and I read a couple of people’s posts here and I thought I would give an attempt at creating my own, I really don’t expect anyone to read it, but I have some spare time at the moment and it feels nice to fantasize that someone might actually take the time to do so. So here it goes, as truthful and accurate as I can be. (Names changed)

My mother, Ann, got divorced a few years before I was born. She ended up sleeping with her previous husbands’ boss, my father, who was also married, and here I am. We moved around a few times when I was at a young age and spent a lot more time in hotels than I would have liked, but regardless, things seemed to be okay. When I was four years old, I was in school and I remember being called into the principal’s office and she sat me down and gave me a cookie and asked me what my favorite show on television was. I didn’t have a television but I did recall seeing an episode of Mr. Rodger’s Neighborhood at some point or another, so I asked her if that was available. Not too long after, my mother came and got me out of school and we ended up going to the beach with my uncle and aunt so that I would be in a peaceful place when they tried to explain to me at age four that my father had decided he couldn’t deal with having 2 families so he drove out to a river somewhere and killed himself.

Around a year or two later my mother started interacting with a man who we’ll call Cody whom I didn’t care for in the least and before I knew it, I was being adopted, my name changed, and there was a new man living in the house. I distinctly remember around age six, walking into the kitchen and seeing him placing all of his coffee cups in our cabinet and not being able to understand the concept of having a new person move in who I was supposed to be comfortable with calling dad. Unfortunately, but not unexpectedly, things didn’t turn out as I had hoped and I ended up spending the next eight years of my childhood with the most abusive, condescending person I have yet to have the pleasure of meeting. When I turned thirteen, due to my intense living environment and my inability to handle extremely stressful situations on a daily basis at that age, I developed severe acne. At age fourteen I had finally saved enough money cutting grass to visit a dermatologist who told me that there really wasn’t anything they could do because of it being such a bad case. They gave me an option to go on Accutane at a discounted rate, although I wasn’t able to continue the treatment due to side effects that the drug was having on me.

At age fifteen my acne was at its worst point and I was halfway through high school with not a single friend or so much as an acquaintance other than the seldom teacher who felt bad for me asking me how my day was going. Around this time, my mother and Cody had a daughter and Cody caught her cheating on him with a local businessman. After that, they got divorced and they had split custody of their daughter, and I stayed with my mother full time.

At age sixteen, with the rise of technology, I began to start learning just about everything that there is to know about computers, it was my first side hobby and I was surprisingly good at it considering my age, and I could always figure things out very easily despite always being much more interested in books than technology (and still am). As soon as I started 11th grade in high school, I learned I had a problem. There was an ever-growing number of gangs in my school and I was getting bullied daily due to my severe acne. This was one of the lowest points in my life, One day, I was in class, sitting next to one of the lead gang members when I noticed he was having trouble on a test. I saw an opportunity and from then on, he received a passing grade on every test he took in the classes that we had together, in exchange for my not being bothered by any of the gang members and to some extent, having their protection. I felt like I was in prison, but it worked.

At age seventeen, I began to notice the first signs of my acne getting slightly better, it was a slow process, but it was better than nothing. Things had been going well for almost a month since my mother got divorced and my happiness level was slowly rising now that I rarely saw Cody and my mother stopped associating with the man she was cheating on him with. She had her daughter every other week and although I never formed a relationship with her, it didn’t bother me.

It was at this time that I learned that one of my cousins, Daniel, who I had only seen once prior to this incident, was getting out of jail again. He had been locked up most of his adult life and he was around age twenty-eight when he got out. What I didn’t know is that due to his mother (my aunt), not being able to go and get him, that me, along with my mother, Ann, we’re going to have to. I had just gotten my driver’s license and decided to drive my new (to me) car separately on the eight-hour trip to the worst maximum-security penitentiary in the state. A couple of days later, we were there, and stayed at a hotel nearby. What I didn’t know, however, was that my mother and her fresh-out-of-jail nephew (my cousin Daniel), we’re going to be sleeping in the same room and going at it for the next couple of days. Upon learning this, I decided to head back home early.

I was home for a couple of days before I was given the news that Daniel would be moving in with us. Over the course of the next few weeks, I was given the pleasure of the hearing my mother ride her nephew more times than anyone should ever have to. It was at this point that I became agitated and decided to visit my aunt Cordelia (Daniel’s mother), and explain to her what was happening. Upon doing so, she replied that she had already previously assumed it and that her, along with my uncle Adam (her husband), would be having a talk with them the following day. Adam was the closest thing that I had to a father, it was rare that we saw each other, but when we did, we always seemed to get along alright.

After Adam and Cordelia visited my mother and Daniel, my mother decided to express to them that she didn’t care what they thought and that she was perfectly fine with being disowned from her entire family as long as it meant that she was still able to be together, and have sexual relations with, her nephew. At this point, the only family that I had left (Adam and Cordelia), began to worry about me staying with my mother due to her mental state and what she had done.

I didn’t want them to think that I supported my mother in any way with what she was doing, and with her son being involved, I couldn’t be a part of what was going on out of sheer respect for Cordelia and my uncle Adam. So, I decided that 4 months before my eighteenth birthday, I was going to beg my grandmother Eva to stay at her house for a while. Eva was Adam and Ann’s mother and she assisted in raising me while my mother was working, and after my mother got fired for making out (amongst other things) with someone in the parking lot at her workplace, she didn’t have to help out anymore. Eva accepted in exchange for me helping out around the house, and that is where I currently reside.

I am eighteen years old, I have my high school diploma, and I’m living with my grandmother, a seventy-year-old woman with severe dementia. She is heavily religious and it took me 2 months to get her to trust me enough to believe me if I said I was going to run to the store to get groceries or something. She questioned everything I did (and somewhat still does), I imagine in her mind she pictures me going out and meeting someone or partying or something, when in reality, I haven’t touched alcohol since the one time my mother gave it to me. I hate drinking and I don’t want any part of it, nor have I ever done any kind of drug, I’ve never been to a party in my entire life, and the only friends that I have are Adam, Cordelia, and my neighbor Jack who’s house I occasionally eat at. That’s it. I have no social media, I don’t talk to anyone, and I’m not where I belong in life. I’m trying to get my bachelor’s degree, I’ve signed up for several colleges (and some online), although I don’t know how far I’ll be able to get if I don’t get some form of financial aid. I just know that I’m not where I belong in life, I didn’t have the best grades in school, I maintained a C average and somehow, with all I was going through and not having any support, I got out with a 3.0GPA.

Just recently I got an interview at a big company in Charlotte, NC where my aunt Cordelia works, and not having a college degree I thought I did pretty good. I remember her calling me afterward, she told me that her boss talked about me for 2 hours and that he was completely blown away by me. He said he didn’t care about my experience and that his only concern with hiring me was that he wasn’t sure if I would be motivated down the road. I remember Cordelia telling me that she was proud of me, and I’d never had anybody tell me that before like that. I knew that she meant it and I cried like crazy after the conversation. I think that’s one of the best memories I have of this life.

Her boss couldn’t hire me because of a company policy being put into place about having two people that were related working under the same roof. I applied at my local City Hall for an administration position and they said that they’d like to have me and are working on putting the position together. That was a month and a half ago. They keep telling me that they’re working on it when I ask, but I don’t know whether or not to believe it anymore. I know I have talent, I know despite all that I have been through I am excellent with people. I know that I have a gift of being able to see everyone’s point of view and everyone’s side of the story. I can read people easily and people always understand me. But there’s an issue with that, the few people that I do have left to rely on don’t support me. They have told me that I’ll do great and that I’m so much better than my competition, but they said it with an attitude such as if I don’t then they will disown me. I don’t know what I’m doing, I know I don’t belong here. I know that I’m destined for so much more than the workforce.

I have always been able to see things, and I do not see myself at a regular job. Something told me to write this letter, so I did. It is one of the hardest things that I have had to do in my life, not because of its complexity, but because it is about me. I hate talking about myself, I don’t like bragging, I don’t like making myself seem a certain way, I don’t like people knowing my history or anything about me for that matter, I dress as nicely as I can, and I have been told that looking at me you aren’t able to tell a thing. But deep inside me, I’m dying, I need change. I don’t have anything tying me here, I don’t have anyone and the only form of social media that I have is an email.

If I were to disappear, no one would bat an eye. I’m eighteen years old (although I feel like I’m sixty) I have no mother, I have no father, my grandmother is seventy and has dementia, as mean as it sounds, she wouldn’t understand what was going on. My aunt and uncle would report me missing, but what are they going to show anyone? I don’t have any kind of account for them to look at, neither one of them could describe me because they hardly know anything about me other than what I look like. In five minutes, I could gather the 3 pictures that they have of me and be on my way, the only thing that they would be able to say is my hair color, the fact that I have acne scars, and I’m tall and skinny. Even if my neighbor Jack tried to pursue anything, he would be in the same boat as my aunt and uncle, there isn’t anything for them to follow. The few times that they have asked me what my goals are, I have always joked at moving away, in the end, they would probably just accept that I did just that.

This letter is the first time that I have made myself known, albeit anonymously. There isn’t anyone reading this that could connect this to me, no one knows me.

If there is anyone out there that would like an assistant and has enough money to fly me wherever they are located, and maybe give me a nice retirement account, I’d like to meet you. I don’t care what you look like, I don’t care who you are, and I don’t care what you are. I am open to all. In 5 minutes, I can drop everything and be on a plane out of here, and I guarantee you, without a doubt in my mind, that I will be the absolute best assistant you have ever had. I’m dying for a chance at a new life, I do believe that for the first eighteen years of mine I have gotten the short end of the stick, although I do know that people have had worse, I also know that I am willing to do anything necessary to prove myself to anyone that would like a reliable, dependable, assistant.

If there is anyone out there who has the ability to help someone start at nothing and become something, I am available for the taking, whether it is someone who wants someone to teach all that they know or someone who wants someone to live this life with, I will be your best choice, and I will do what is necessary, without hesitation. Throughout everything that I have been through, I have always remained calm and collective, the only thing that I lack is emotion.

If anyone would like me, send me a message and I will respond promptly, I can be ready in 5, and I guarantee I will blow my competition out of the water.

For anyone that took the time to read this in its entirety, thank you.

Thursday, November 15, 2018