A recent conversation has made me recall a rather horrid time in My history. One I pushed out of My mind for a very long time, but one that I cant escape from, as Im still paranoid about it. heres a twisted little tale for the history books.

I grew up homeless from the time I was about age 7 or 8. My dad lost his job with Domino Sugar* by hurting his back, going on workmans comp, and them firing him. I cant discuss all that happened all those years in one sitting. But one memory in particular came up from discussion with a friend. She mentioned she had lost all her things once. And My past came back to haunt me once again. I was 12 at the time. Living in a homeless shelter for families out on Long Island. We had been there for 4 years. Living in what some would call a residential housing complex. Homes paid for by the welfare dept, for temporary lodging. Before entering this place, We had entrusted out entire houses contents to the welfare dept, and in a storage facility it went. Such accomidations in storage are paid by welfare. So when we got the news We had found a possible house to live in, we were excited. It was nearly My 13th burthday. We had called to get our belongings delivered to the new home so we could be ready when it arrived. But there was a problem locating our things. A big problem. Unknown to us, welfare had stopped paying for storage, without telling us 4 months prior to us finding a place to live. So as a result of some idiots choice....all of our belongings...were put on public sale....baby pictures....papers, and such which were not deemed "sellable" were thrown away. Everything else was sold as is to whoever wanted it. My moms wedding dress. A solid oak cannonball bed. Her hope chest. Family hierlooms too valuable to mention. Everything gone.

The excuse given by the powers that be said there was only junk anyway, and it wasnt a big deal, we were treated simply as poor people, how could we have anything worth keeping. Blame was shifted, and nothing ever recovered. Oceans of tears fel by all in My family. Our very life had been violated, and stolen. They stole My life from Me. From us. Words cannot describe the hate I have for those who did this. So we did eventually move into a house......with nothing. If your the ones who did that to Me....fuck you. Im so paranoid now, I never throw things away. I save everything, out of sentiment. My whole family does. And I cant ever trust anything I own to someone, out of the fear it will never be seen again. Do you know what its like, to look at people on the street, accusing them in your mind of having something of yours. The paranoia that follows....seeing things which might have been yours. And the hate it brings. Dammit. Fuck. I hate you.....you know who you are....