“My biological parents were crack addicts. They gave me, and my brother and sister, to their dealers because we were all they had to barter with. I was beat, shot, stabbed, raped, molested, set on fire until I was 7 years old. It bothered me at first, what I’ve been through, but because of all that, a family friend, who I call my grandpa, decided to raise me to have the faith that I have today in God and if it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t be who I am today.
I don’t see what I’ve been through as a crutch, I don't see it as an excuse. I’ve never done drugs. I’m probably the only one you’ll meet that doesn’t do drugs.
Five kids later, still I’m homeless, but at least I have a roof over my head, somewhere warm at night, and a place to lay my head. Not everybody gets to do that. I’ve found a peace here. I’m in a better place with the mother of my kids, and I’m going to see them as soon as I come up with enough money.”